Are You Mine?
by PoetHrotsvitha
Summary: Fryecest Modern AU. Underage warning for 17. 100% what it says on the tin, do not go in expecting anything else. (Warning: Incest, NSFW)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:**

I am a big believer in appropriate warnings, so let me be _very_ clear. The vast majority of this fic is adult content. It is an incestuous pairing, with consensual underage sex (17). It is 100% self-indulgent and goes 0-100 pretty much immediately. Please be aware of what you are getting into- my aim is not to surprise anyone with something unexpected that will make them uncomfortable. _Only proceed if this is your jam_.

* * *

Jacob's mobile buzzed on his bedside table. He bounced it in hands for a few moments before he picked up, staring at Evie's name on the caller ID.

"'Lo?"

"Jacob, hi, Father's forgotten about me again. Can you come pick me up?"

Ugh. "Can't you just take a bus?"

"Yes, but it would take too long. I want to shower before ballet. Please?"

He bit back a sigh. This was a bad idea. "Fine. Give me fifteen."

Jacob went to the bog-standard comprehensive around the corner, but that hadn't been good enough for Evie and her ambition. No, she had to take the exams and end up at one of the posh grammar schools- which, of course, was all the bloody way across town.

The air was brisk as he rode over, tucked into his jacket and helmet. It was fairly typical these days for Father to forget to be somewhere. He was still hidden in his office at the university and reeling from Mother up and disappearing; to be honest, they all were.

When he pulled up, she was standing out by the curb and waiting. He felt his mouth go a little dry as he took in the blazer and skirt, the pert ponytail. Down, boy.

He motioned her over and she climbed onto the back, tucking herself flush against him and wrapping her arms around his stomach. Even through the jacket, he felt like he was burning where they were pressed together; when he glanced down, he got an eyeful of thigh where her skirt had ridden up and immediately had to snap his eyes forward. If they didn't get moving quickly, passersby were about to get an eyeful of the tent in his pants.

This had been _such_ a bad idea.

She shot him a thumbs up and he kicked the engine into a roar, navigating back out onto the streets.

* * *

Evie felt like she was going to combust by the time they reached the house.

Between her face against Jacob's back, feeling the muscles shift every time he moved his arm, the smell of him- leather, something vaguely earthy, and sandalwood- and the vibrations of the motorcycle seat itself, she was terrified that she was going to leave some dampness behind when she stood.

He parked in front of the house and they walked silently through the small garden. She stood on the stoop and waited as he dug around for the key, doing her best not to squirm. All she had to do was get inside and upstairs to her room- then she could rub one out and desperately pretend the whole time that she wasn't thinking about her brother.

He found the keys and promptly dropped them, cursing as they bounced towards to her feet.

She leaned down. "Here, I got it—"

Bent over, she looked up and found herself face to face with an eyeful of what was obviously an incredible erection straining in the fabric of his pants.

There was the world's most awkward silence.

"Uh," he said, "oh my God, uh—"

She straightened but barely heard him. Dear God, it was _big_. Was that average? It couldn't be.

He snatched the key and immediately fumbled with the door, throwing it open and charging through to the kitchen. She took her shoes off slowly, head spinning. Did that actually just happen? Was it- was it for her?

Creeping through to the kitchen, she leaned in and found Jacob at the table with his head in his hands. She took a few steps towards him. "Jacob…"

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled. "Fucking embarrassing, Jesus Christ."

"Is it… Was that- why…"

"Well, you know, I'm a young bloke still." He shot her a forced grin. "Plus I really love that bike, so."

She felt like her face was bright red. Her heart was going a million miles an hour and she opened her mouth but couldn't feel an answer coming.

Any second now, she was sure, his face was going to turn to horror as he recognized the emotion she was experiencing. Instead, his grin trailed off as they stared at each other, his hand curling into a tight fist on the table.

"Was it…" She licked her lips and tried again, barely believing that she was saying the words as they drifted into the world. "Was it for me?"

He made a choked noise. "What- I- no, of course not—"

But he was lying, she knew a lie from him at twenty paces in the dark. "It was for me."

"Uh," he managed, as she put her fingers to his cheek. His throat was working rapidly as he swallowed, and she was suddenly seized by the urge to lean down and run her tongue along the skin there, beginning to grow a maddeningly handsome sort of scruff.

Instead, she just stood and watched as one of his hands lifted very, very slowly, almost as if waiting for her to bolt. It got close to her knee and then drifted higher, fingers skimming as he worked up the inside of her thigh, never looking away from her eyes. A light sort of panting filled the room and with a jolt a horror she realized it was her; she stood stock still as his hand travelled higher still, up and up past the hem of her skirts before she felt a touch, ghost light, along the bottom of her panties where she was now desperately, horribly wet—

The front door thunked open. Their Father's voice called from the entrance as he obviously spotted her shoes by the door – "oh God, Evie, I just realized I didn't pick you up, I'm so sorry. Darling, are you here?"

Jacob's hand snatched back like he was burned and she staggered away from him, frantically finding her voice. "Here," she called back, "in the kitchen."

Father was in the room moments later. "I really am so sorry, Evie."

"It's fine," she choked out, unable to look either of them in the eye. "I'll be up in my room; I've got assignments to finish."

* * *

He and Father sat in an awkward silence for a few minutes before Jacob stuffed his hands in his pockets, abandoning the kitchen to go upstairs. Once alone, maybe he could try and understand what the hell had just happened.

It was like a fever dream, fantastic and unreal. She had been so damp that he could easily feel it through the fabric, her pupils blown as she stared at him with slightly opened lips.

He ought to just be relieved that she didn't punch him right in the face, but instead he found himself wondering if- did that mean—

Fuck, this was bad.

Rubbing his face with a groan, he had made it most of the way to his room when he could've sworn that he heard someone say his name.

Backtracking a bit, he shuffled until he stopped at Evie's door. And there it was again, faint but definite, a breathy whisper.

His hands were shaking now- this was surely a residual bit of leftover madness from what had just happened downstairs? But then- what if it wasn't madness, and what he thought was happening was actually happening behind that door—

He had to know.

The door was cracked open, he realized now, the slightest bit of light coming through. Clearly it had crept ajar without her realizing. Pressing his fingers to the wood, he pushed it further just another fraction of an inch, enough to be able to see Evie lying on her bed, back arching as she moved, her hand between her _oh holy shit_.

The strangled noise was out of him before he could help it. She froze and snapped up, hands immediately flying to her sides, her eyes open wide. Her face was bright red and he could see now that some strands of her hair had pulled loose from her tight ponytail. "Did you- did you hear- this is not what you think—"

Quickly stepping in against his better judgement, he closed the door, heart in his throat. "It isn't? Because I know what it looked like."

Her mouth was open as she stared, her breath coming out in little gasps. God, she looked so fucking hot, it wasn't right or fair and it was a cruel cosmic joke that they were related. So much daily energy had to go into ignoring her lithe form in tiny sleep shorts or that infuriating little uniform.

It was bad enough that he'd just stuck his hand up her skirt. It was really bad that he desperately wanted to do it again.

When he reached the bed, he sat down next to her legs. In the same movement as before, he gently placed his fingertips at her knees and worked upwards, carefully watching her face. Her gaze, for its part, was glued to his hand. She didn't stop him; if anything, she parted her legs wider, making it easier for him to move upwards.

When he reached the seam of her knickers, she clamped her eyes shut and curled her fingers in the sheets, letting out a little gasp.

Slowly, slowly, ever so slowly so she had time to stop him if she wanted, he slid his fingers up until she suddenly shuddered under his touch.

"Show me," he breathed. For a second he was sure that speaking out loud had ruined the moment, that she would now shove him away and scream at him for being a pervert. Instead, she kept her eyes closed and moved her hand to cover his, lightly pressing down on a small space near the apex of her thighs and motioning for him to make small circles.

This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. He obeyed the movement and she started to shudder, quivering under his touch.

Jacob shook his head like his ears were waterlogged. This wasn't- he wasn't touching his sister's knickers. They hadn't skipped kissing and cuddling and gone straight to him getting her off. He was not so hard that it nearly hurt.

Her head was tossing from side to side now, her body desperate to move and to stay completely still at the same time. Had she ever done this with someone else before? The image drove an irrational stab of jealousy through him, the thought abhorrent.

The pants in the room were becoming faster and more high pitched, he realized, her neck arching backwards so her tits pushed towards him invitingly. She was desperately trying to be silent, clamping down on her lips, but little whimpers kept sneaking out past her gritted teeth.

He should slow down, backtrack, strip her down and kiss every solid inch of her-

With a tinny noise, her phone began to sing, some classical piece that trilled through the air. She froze and let out a little groan. "I have to get ready for ballet."

Skip it, he wanted to say. Don't go. Instead, he tried to keep his voice neutral and normal, withdrawing his hand. "Right. I'll leave you be, then."

He left the room in a hurry. He was terrified that if he didn't speed away, he would end up pinning her to the bed and devouring her until she couldn't even remember how to do a plié.

* * *

Ballet was torturous. As if she could focus on anything after what had happened.

She tried. But she kept closing her eyes and seeing Jacob's steady and lidded gaze, the burning focus of it sparking on her skin.

By the time she returned home, Father and Jacob had clearly already eaten. The light was on in Father's study; in all likelihood, he would fall asleep there, and she would find him slumped over his notes in the morning.

Jacob could be anywhere. He was rarely home.

But when she padded up the stairs, she saw that the light was also on in his room, the soft thump of music carrying through the door.

She showered. She put on her sleep things. She brushed her teeth. She tried to think of anything else, of anyone else. Even so, she ended up standing outside of his door, hand hovering over the handle.

Right at the moment that she decided to leave and end this madness, the door swung open from the inside. "I can see your shadow," Jacob said irritably. "Either come in or go away."

So she went in, awkwardly hovering in the doorway as he stalked back to his bed, pulling his laptop back onto his lap.

He kept his eyes on the screen as she fidgeted. "Uh…" she started, "I mean, that is…"

It was too frightening.

She shook her head. "Never mind, it's nothing."

The threshold was within reach when Jacob crossed the room behind her in three steps, reaching over her shoulder and holding the door shut. They froze like that for a moment, her facing the door, his presence looming behind her. Slowly, she turned to face him, and his eyes had taken on the same dark quality from before that made her heart race.

In a flash, he braced her against the door and pushed his hand down the front of her shorts, directly in contact with her skin. She snapped her hands to his shoulders and held on tightly as he found her clit, starting on the little motions she'd showed him earlier.

She'd showed him- oh God, that really happened, this was really happening-

"Is this what you wanted? Why you came here?" His voice was husky and his breath hot on her shoulder as he worked, her toes twisting against the floor.

When she didn't answer, he grabbed her ass with his other hand and tucked her closer, pressing his hard-on to her thigh as he sped up his movements. "I said- is this what you wanted?"

The orgasm was shattering and quick when it suddenly ripped through her, bursting like a firework as she let out a shuddered "yes," a scream but for the lack of air behind the sound.

He withdrew when she slumped against him on shaking knees. As she watched, he lifted his slick fingers to his lips and _sucked_.

Heart in her throat, she whirled and fled, shaking from head to toe.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time he made it to the kitchen for tea and toast, still in his sleep shorts, Evie was completely ready for the day. How could he be related to a morning person?

"Mornin'," he grunted, shoving some bread in the toaster.

"Good morning," she replied faintly, voice quiet.

Well, this was awkward. Jacob's whole night had been spent restlessly, roiling guilt mixed in with inappropriate dreams. Or maybe they were inappropriate daydreams. At some stage it became hard to tell.

All he knew was that the image of her coming was burned into his retinas. "Evie-"

"I have to go," she said, clattering to her feet and grabbing her bag.

* * *

"Overcrowding was rife during the industrial revolution as London became a larger urban centre, problems with crime and disease constantly plaguing the city as a whole…"

The words soared over Evie's head as she sat, chin propped on her palm, staring out the window as rain lashed against the panes.

How were they going to recover from this? Did anyone recover from this? It wasn't as though she could go to someone for advice. Ring up the Samaritans and say _Hello, yes, I let my brother stick his hand down my pants, please tell me how we go back to normal._

The memory made her flush all over again, the sensation associated with far less shame than it ought to have been.

The rest of her classes were an equal blur. By the time she hit lunch, she was locked in a staring competition with her mobile, trying to decide her next step.

A voice cut through her daze. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes—" she looked up and found a concerned Mr. Green hovering over her table. "Oh, hello, Sir."

He had a bundle of grading in his hands like always, perpetually looking kindly and a bit harried. "It's not like you to be distracted."

"Yes, well, I'm having a bit of an off-day."

He made a sympathetic noise before moving on. She waited until he was a few steps away to quickly screw up her courage, tap out "we need to talk", and hit _send_.

She rather expected Jacob to take a while to get back to her. Instead, her mobile buzzed almost immediately.

 _Pick u up again?_

That would do, she supposed. She let him know the time and tried to put it out of her mind.

* * *

This whole thing was a nightmare. Jacob sleepwalked through the day, trying to settle his focus on something- anything- else. When he got Evie's message, it was with a sinking feeling in his stomach; he'd be lucky if he got out of this with her willing to speak to him ever again.

The minutes crawled until he could go and get her.

The light rain made his bike a bit less than ideal, but Father had taken the car, so he didn't have a choice. It might have been his imagination, but he felt like she was clutching him even more tightly than yesterday as they drove home.

Shivering, they staggered into the house and went to get towels. Standing in the bathroom, he rubbed at his arms as she raked her hands through her hair. "So, you wanted to talk?"

"Yes," she said slowly. "I mean, about yesterday. Obviously."

Side by side, they looked anywhere but at each other. "Right."

"I..." she swallowed. "I never should've gone to your room. I'm sorry."

He wasn't sorry. "Don't be."

She swivelled to look at him directly, eyes wide. "But- that was wrong. What we did was wrong."

"Yes," he agreed. Because what else could you say?

Mindlessly, he reached out and tucked a stray wet strand behind her ear. When his fingers touched her skin, she shivered, eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks. "And we can't do it again," she whispered. Despite her words, he watched as she leaned towards him, so slowly that it was possible that she hadn't noticed herself moving.

"We can't," he agreed, feeling himself compelled as he bent to meet her, a flower turning to face the sun.

There was a moment's hesitation when they were a hair's breadth away. If yesterday had been a fever dream, today was stone-cold reality in comparison. He could see every freckle, the beads of water on her skin, the flick of her tongue as she licked her lips.

Before he could watch this slip away, he shoved away his screaming moral compass and closed the last of the distance between them.

She tasted like mint and home, mouth soft and warm against his. He tentatively settled a hand on her waist and, like magic, she melted against him. He felt her arms reach for his shoulders, one of her hands settling on the back of his neck.

She pulled away to look at him with blown pupils. "This is wrong."

He barely managed to nod and say "yes" before she pulled him back in, this time parting her lips with a tentative swipe of her tongue.

This was such a fucking terrible idea.

But God, she smelled so good, something sort of soapy and floral that surrounded her in a little cloud. And when he caught her lower lip with a nip of his teeth, she whimpered beautifully.

He was sure that she had to be able to feel his erection pressing against her, but she didn't draw away.

He was already going to hell anyway, so it only felt right to try and see more of her. Shifting his kisses along her jawline and down her neck, he had managed to open the button on her blazer when she suddenly clapped a hand over his wrist.

When he pulled back, he saw why; the white shirt was completely transparent from the rain, the lines and fabric of a highly sensible looking beige bra front and centre. He blinked. In this new and strange and upside down world, apparently Evie could even make beige look sexy.

She stepped away and briskly wrapped her hair in her towel. "I should get out of these damp things," she muttered, quickly disappearing down the hallway.

* * *

Hiding in her room seemed like the best decision for the rest of the afternoon.

Evie dreaded seeing everyone when it was time to eat, but she needn't have worried. Jacob had supper in his room; Father, when she checked on him later, was asleep on his desk with an open bottle of brandy next to his head.

She was hesitating again. Surely, now, it was too late to pretend that things could be normal. But did that make it okay to- well, nothing would make this okay. Should she go ahead anyway?

The ache between her legs desperately wanted her to.

Rather than waiting at the threshold, she simply let herself into his room this time. Jacob looked up from his computer as she came in, his desk chair creaking as he shifted his weight. "You could knock," he said, clicking his laptop shut.

She just crossed the floor to his bed and crawled under the covers. When he raised his eyebrows at her, she held the blankets up, beckoning him over.

"He's home," Jacob said, his meaning obvious.

"He's passed out again," she said quietly. She watched as his eyebrows went even higher, the implication settling in.

When he stood, he first clicked off the light, plunging the room into darkness. There was a shuffle as she heard the sound of fabric rustling.

There was no possible way that he couldn't hear her heart beating in her chest, it was so unbearably loud. "What are you doing?"

"Going to bed," he said, voice low. "I sleep in my pants."

The thought sent another thrill. "Oh—"

"You can leave, if you'd like." His tone was pointed.

By way of answer, she just shuffled over in his bed to make a little more room.

When he slid in next to her, he was warm and solid, the two of them cramped a bit in the tight space. Relaxing, she let out a happy sigh right before he abruptly rolled on top of her, pressing down for a bruising kiss.

Their first kiss had been hesitant, she realized now, and this was anything but. It was hard and demanding, possessive and forceful- but most of all, it was exciting, and it made that pulse between her legs grow in intensity.

He drew back and slid his thumb along the hem of her shirt. "So this is happening, then?"

It shouldn't be happening. This was all kinds of wrong. But the voice telling her to leave was absolutely drowned out by the chorus that wanted him to keep touching her, to never stop touching her.

Hesitantly, she slid her hand down his front until she could run the heel of her palm along his length.

He hissed and tensed, his breath hot on her shoulder. It made her feel powerful to provoke such a reaction, a happy purring settling into the back of her mind.

And he had already done the equivalent, had he not? Sauce for the goose, sauce for the gander?

Heart in her throat, she slipped her fingers past the hem of his pants.

"Shit," he breathed quietly, "shit, Evie, _shit_ —"

The tactile sense of it was new, with ridges and veins that she could lightly feel under her fingertips. It felt surprisingly hot and velvety in her hand, though she wasn't sure what she had expected. Nothing, really; there had been some fumbled kisses with Alec before, but that was a far cry from this.

She tried a few experimental strokes and that provoked an actual groan from him, one which he quickly stifled into the pillow next to her head.

Quickening her pace, she worked until he was twitching his hips into her hand, panting breaths coming out as the muscles of his arms clenched on either side of her head.

Suddenly, he reached down and grabbed her wrist. He pushed up to look at her, his stare intense, almost frightening. "Are you going to avoid me again tomorrow?"

"What?"

"I don't want to do this if you're going to avoid me again."

She blinked at him. They were both breathing like they'd just run up three flights of stairs, adrenaline and lust and fear spiking into a potent swirl of emotion. "And if I don't avoid you?"

He looked confused for a moment.

"If I don't avoid you tomorrow, do we keep going?"

His words were rasped. "Do you want to?" They shot a thrill straight down her spine, with all of their implied promise.

Oh, damn it all, she was doomed. "Yes," she breathed, and when she started to move her hand again, he didn't try to stop her. It was intoxicating to watch his outline shiver over her as she worked, the dim light of the room obscuring him so that he could've been- well, he could've been anybody.

But he wasn't, of course.

"Fuck—" he sputtered, taking a shuddering breath as he wrenched her hand away, his hips moving in erratic thrusts. "Oh fuck, I'm- _fuck_ —" His spine bowed and she felt his knuckles brush her stomach as he held himself, seemingly trying to contain the mess.

Still, she felt a few drops of dampness slide over her exposed skin. She ought to have been disgusted. Any minute now, she was sure, the disgust would kick in…

But it didn't.

"Sorry," he slurred, groping around for tissues. "Didn't want to get that on you."

"It's ok," she said quietly. Shuffling, she scooted to the end of the bed to leave.

"Where are you going?" He sounded confused.

"I can't stay here all night."

"Yes, but what about you—"

"I can wait," she said. The implication was terrifying. _I can wait for next time._

There was a silence as he took that in. "Right," he finally said. "See you tomorrow?" She could hear the question he was actually asking: are we still speaking?

"Yes," she agreed. "See you tomorrow."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:**

Shit juuuust begins to get kinky this chapter. I'm already going to hell, so at this point it's go big or go home.

* * *

When he awoke, he almost wondered if he had dreamed the whole episode. It seemed dreamlike. But the feeling of her hand wrapped around him was definitely a memory, a frantic and consuming memory that he couldn't stop replaying.

And she'd said she wanted to keep going. Like that was an offer he could turn down.

If it were up to him, they'd 'keep going' _right now._

In the kitchen, he found her making eggs, neat and trim in her uniform. Fuck but he had a thing for those knee socks.

He wandered up behind her and put his chin on her shoulder. "Morning."

"Morning," she replied calmly.

"Where's Father?"

"Already gone."

Jacob made a pleased humming noise and lifted his fingers to loosen the knot of her tie. Pressing a kiss to the side of her neck, he began to work on the buttons of her blouse, fumbling a bit with the fiddly things.

Her breath hitched. "I'm a little busy, here."

"Don't mind me," he murmured.

The bra was white today, he saw, with a bit of lace trim. It was nice, but he was more interested in what was underneath it, the swell of skin an enticing promise. He skimmed his fingers along the edges while he tried a little bite to her neck, and the resulting shiver seemed like a good sign.

In a quick movement, he yanked the cups down, exposing perky tits to the cold air of the kitchen. Her shiver turned to a shudder as he flicked his finger along a nipple, admiring how taut it was already.

"Eyes forward," he mumbled, stepping away without warning. "You'll burn your eggs."

He was putting bread in the toaster when he saw her hands move up to rearrange her clothes.

"Don't," he said with a grin, "I like it that way."

Most of him expected to have something thrown at him for that remark. The rest of him expected that she would just ignore him. After all, this was the same girl who once disabled his radio because his music was 'too loud and interfering with her study'. Who snitched on him for opening their Christmas presents early and trying to rewrap them. Who, even now, had a habit of kicking him painfully in the shins when they fought for the last bit of milk in the house.

What he didn't expect was to hear a shaky sigh and for her arms to return to her sides.

 _Well_. That changed things a little. Who knew?

When she carried her plate to the table, he detected a slight tremor in her hands; as they sat across from each other, her eyes kept flickering to his, confirming that he was still watching her. Which he was, of course. Like he could focus on anything else with a pair of naked breasts across from him, he was only human. The more he stared, the more she squirmed. Fantastic.

He shifted his legs, trying to get comfortable with a raging hard-on. "Why haven't you done up your shirt?"

Fork halfway to her mouth, she paused, looking embarrassed and confused. "But- you said-"

Giving up on the toast, he stood and walked to her side of the table. "I did, but you don't make a habit of listening to me."

Her face was turning pink. "Well- I mean, I-"

He leaned over and twisted her chair out so she was facing him; she practically dropped her fork and clamped her hands to the arm rests. God, those tits were gorgeous. "Do you like being on display?"

Eyes wide, she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

He dropped to his knees and pushed her legs apart. "Because if so, I want to see more of you." Gripping her hips, he yanked her forward until she was perched on the edge of the chair, precariously balanced with her legs stretched out. Covering her hands with his own, he moved them to her skirt, motioning for her to hold it up.

The knickers were white too, plain and cotton. So sensible. So Evie.

He was feathering kisses up her thigh when she spoke with a shaky voice. "I give an inch and you take a mile, huh?"

Rocking back on his heels, he looked up at her, flush and red, blush extending past her neck and all the way down to the tops of her breasts. He gave one a pinch and her toes curled beside him as she scrunched her face up. "I can stop?"

When she didn't say anything, he started to get up.

"No," she breathed immediately, sounding a little panicked. "Don't."

Slowly, slowly, he settled back down. The tile of the kitchen floor was starting to dig into his knees a bit, but he was unbelievably beyond caring. "Don't what?"

"Don't stop."

God, yes. Leaning forward again, he skimmed kisses up her thighs- fuck, they were solid, that would be all the dancing- until he met the hem of her knickers. He could see a little damp spot of moisture, could practically smell her arousal. Fucking fuck. So it turned out that angry and confident in life didn't translate to in bed.

He could work with that. Oh yes, he could definitely work with that.

He earned a delicious and shocked gasp when he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the fabric, forgoing subtlety for an open assault. The heat of her seeped through the thin fabric, the weave scratchy when he tentatively poked out with his tongue. He wasn't exactly sure what he was doing, but it seemed to be working; when he looked back up, she was breathing shallowly, gazing at him with shaky wonder.

After a few more broad licks, he summoned his self-control and he stood.

She looked dismayed. "What?"

"It's time to go to school." He gestured to the clock on the mantelpiece. "Can't make you late."

She looked like she wanted to tell him that he could. "So…" she shifted. "Will you come get me again?"

"If you'd like."

"I'm going to be later today, I have Latin club."

Latin club. Jesus Christ, were they really twins? "Father will be home by then. I guess we'll see what happens."

He lifted her to her feet and carefully rearranged her skirt, working her bra back into place and doing up the buttons of her blouse. Her breathing had almost gone back to normal now, her face composed; suddenly realizing that he hadn't actually given her a kiss this morning, he quickly pulled her in, letting her taste her own musk on his lips.

Finally, he gave her tie a brisk tug to tighten it back into place. He leaned next to her ear. "Don't change the knickers," he breathed, "unless you want to go without for the day."

He heard her quietly whisper, "I might skip Latin club."

* * *

She couldn't quite explain what had come over her. It was like she had gone into a fugue state, all of the usual reason and sensibility flown away in the face of his instructions.

Mere words shouldn't have been able to turn her legs to jelly, but they had done so over and over.

That first contact in the kitchen- God, had it really only been two days ago?- had opened the floodgates to feelings that she didn't even know she had. There had been so many nights of working herself into the ground, of doing her exercises until she was exhausted, all so she could not think about her brother, not fantasize about him holding her down with those strong arms, not dream about him whispering filthy things in her ear.

Her mind kept wandering back to his intense gaze, the press of his lips through the fabric, the terrible and wonderful burning in her hips-…

Mr. Green had to ask her about Heathcliff's motivations twice before she looked up and realized that the whole class was staring at her.

Latin club could definitely wait.

She texted him a time and found him waiting after school, leaning next to his bike and twirling his keys in his hand.

When she went to get on, he reached into his backpack and tossed her a helmet.

She frowned down at it. "You got me my own helmet?" Given that the most she ever did was a ten minute slow ride across town on the back, they'd never bothered.

"Have the feeling that we're going to be doing a lot more of this," he said, taking the handles.

The words sent a shot of heat straight to her core.

Once home, she babbled something about needing a shower and practically fled up the stairs. Under the hot water, she let the soapy suds wash over her as she tried to clear her mind, tried to promise herself that she wouldn't turn to putty if he asked. I am not preparing for him, she thought, repeating the phrase like a mantra as she scrubbed everything down carefully and shaved. I am not preparing for him. I am not. I am not.

She pulled a soft cotton t-shirt on once she was dry, skipping the bra, and went with a pair of shorts. She even picked out a pair of pretty-ish knickers with lace. Not preparing for him.

The steady thump of his boxing gloves could be heard as she went down the hall. Peeking into his room, she saw that he'd strung his punching bag up and was pummelling it with force, stripped down to his trousers. She'd been to plenty of his championships, but there was still something more intimate about just watching him alone, admiring the flex of his muscles as he savaged the bag.

She stepped into the room and closed the door. "Showing off?"

He immediately shucked off his gloves, and the look he gave her was almost irritable. "For some reason, I have a lot of pent up energy to work off."

When he reached for her, she moved hesitantly, shuffling towards him until she could press her fingers to that stupid tattoo on his chest. Father had nearly had a conniption when he found out, but Jacob was belligerent, shrugging that he could hardly get rid of it now.

It was hot, but she would die before she admitted it.

His hands played with the hem of her shirt. "So I've been thinking."

"Hm?"

"About this morning."

So had she. "What about it? Other than the fact that we're both going to hell-"

"I've been thinking about how you listened to me."

The carpet was scratchy under her feet and the room was quiet, muffled sounds of street traffic and birds filtering through his window. "Don't read into it too much."

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a few delicate kisses to her fingertips. But when he raised his gaze to look at her, his expression was anything but delicate. "On your knees," he said, voice low.

There was that surge of heat again, like someone blowing on hot coals. "W-what?"

"On your knees," he repeated, deadly calm, face inscrutable.

She couldn't account for it, but she almost fell over herself in her rush to comply, thudding to the floor. For a moment, they stared at each other, almost equally shocked.

"Fuck," he breathed.

She tried to pout but he grabbed her chin, hooking a thumb in her mouth and grinning when she obediently curled her tongue along the flat of his finger.

"Bossy, bossy Evie," he murmured, a bit breathless. "Who would've thought."

"Shuddup," she mumbled around his thumb.

"What, you're so in control elsewhere that you want someone else to tell you what to do for a bit? Such a stereotype."

She felt a flash of irritation and went to pull away, but he pressed his thumb in deeper and reached around to wrap a fist in her hair. The tug along her scalp did strange things; her whole body immediately relaxed, mind going pleasantly empty.

"That's what I thought," he agreed, grin now broad across his face.

She moaned and the grin slid off his face, replaced by a feral sort of hunger. They stared at each other until she tried a gentle swirl with her tongue.

It seemed to break his trance. Snatching his hand away, he pulled her up and shoved her over to the bed, where she gracelessly fell onto her back; climbing on top of her, he yanked her shorts to her knees, fingers skimming along the waistband of her knickers.

His eyes widened when he looked down and caught sight of the lace. "These are pretty. For me?"

"Shut up," she mumbled again, covering her face with her hands.

"We need to work on your honesty," he said, sliding inside the lace and giving a gentle press along her clit.

She wriggled against him and moaned again when his fingers slid lower, dipping along her folds.

"Christ," he muttered, "you're sopping."

"This is all your fault," she said in a choked noise, eyes clamped tightly shut.

The first intrusion of his finger was gentle, probing, sending a racing current through her spine. She tensed and he made a shushing sound, pushing up to lean over her. "Relax, shh, relax. Look at me."

He moved his finger gently and she mewled, still hiding her face.

"Look at me," he murmured again. "Evie."

At her name, she unlaced her fingers and peered up at him, lips trembling. It was almost too intense, the way he watched for any reaction, moving his hand steadily. She gulped in more air when he added another finger, the stretch becoming oddly pleasing, the fear subsiding as she started to move, pushing her hips back against his arm to try and get more friction. With his other hand, he tugged up her shirt and pressed a kiss to the tender flesh of her nipples, her body relaxing further as he licked and nipped.

When he curved his fingers without warning and _pressed_ on something she had never felt before, sending a delicious tingling through her body, she shot up from the mattress so quickly that she nearly cracked her head into his. "What- what was that?"

He looked back and forth between her eyes. "Are you serious?"

"I didn't know tha-" she broke off and squeaked when he rocked his fingers again, making it happen once more, another rolling wave making her convulse.

"Good?" He growled.

Wide-eyed, she nodded.

He shoved her back down and began to twist his hand in earnest, growing rougher by the second, until she was writhing and almost sobbing from pleasure; when he pulled her hand to her clit, she complied and began to rub, too far gone to even be embarrassed.

This was too intense, more intense than it ever was when she was alone. All of her nerves felt overexposed, like she was a sparking wire hanging from a socket, too dangerous to be touched. But he was touching her anyway, and oh, it felt _good_ , so good that she wondered how she'd ever stayed away from him for the last year, how she'd ever managed to tell herself that she wasn't falling for him desperately, inappropriately, irrevocably-

Her peak was shattering, her spine arching off the bed as she cried out incoherently, the sensation almost paralyzing in its excessive force. Fireworks weren't an extreme enough comparison; it was more like a bomb, leaving shockwaves in its wake that made her as helpless as the original explosion. Jacob smothered her sounds with a kiss as she rocked, trying to extend the pleasure, to make it last forever. She could almost taste his hunger, a hunger that she now shared, binding them together as tightly as fingers in a clenched fist.

Brain slowly collecting itself, she blinked up at him, simultaneously sated and a bit nervous that he'd seen her so unrestrained.

"That…" His voice cracked a little. "That was so _fucking_ hot."


	4. Chapter 4

Was it possible to get addicted to a person?

She had taken over his mind. It was almost like years of repression had meant there was a backlog of longing, a whole dam of obsession that had been hiding behind fragile walls. It was swamping him now, making it hard to think, hard to breathe.

He didn't like to think of himself as a sap, but damn if he didn't feel like pulling out all the stops. Girls liked flowers, right? He should get some flowers. She would like that. He'd never done that before, for anyone, but it felt like the right thing to do now.

There was still the slight issue that they seemed to be going about this a bit backwards, but better late than never-

"Earth to Jacob?"

Ned was waving a hand in Jacob's face, trying to get his attention.

Jacob blinked slowly. "I, uh… yes?"

"If you'd like to join the rest of us, we wanted to know if you planned to come out with us tonight? Given that you keep ditching?"

He looked around the table. At Agnes, with a cigarette between her fingers, furtively glancing around in case any teachers decided to wander by. Ned, scowling over his bacon sandwich, his eyebrow arched. Rob was fixated on his mobile, likely arguing with someone on Twitter.

All he could see in his mind's eye was Evie's soft lips panting at him. "No, I don't think so."

"Seriously, the hell is up with you lately? You're never around, you keep spacing out all the time like you're fucking on something- and if you are, you should share-"

Rob broke in without even looking up from his mobile. "Isn't it obvious? He's met someone."

Agnes whipped around. "Really? You?"

"Fuck off," Jacob mumbled.

Rob tucked his mobile in his jacket pocket with a grin before he broke into a sing-song voice. "Someone's in looo-oooove."

* * *

He couldn't exactly show up at her school doors with flowers. That would look odd. So, he got a small and bright bouquet of something colourful at the Sainsbury's and awkwardly stuffed it in his backpack, praying that they wouldn't get too crushed.

The doors of her school were packed with milling students, as always, making it hard to spot her. _St. Animus Grammar School_ loomed in gothic font over them all, the iron-wrought words stately and confident in their own self-importance.

Like its students. Pricks.

When she finally came running out, he started the bike, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. "Listen, it turns out I have some work to do here- and besides, I heard from Father, he's home early today. You go ahead; I'll just take the bus."

For some reason, this stung. "What, we don't spend time together if we're not…" He glanced around, not wanting to say the words in public, but knowing she would follow his meaning.

She turned a little pink. "I thought you wouldn't want to."

"Wouldn't want…" Did she think that he was touching her because- what, just because she was around and he could? He quickly flipped through his memories to see if he had ever given her any evidence to the contrary. Nothing sprung to mind. Okay, so, he maybe could've been a little more forthcoming. He could fix that.

He shrugged off his backpack and opened it for her. "Of course I want to see you. Evie, I bought you _flowers_. Can I just sit while you do your work?"

Her eyes were wide as she stared at his bag. She blinked at it, and then back at him, and then back at the flowers again. "Those are for me?"

"Like I'd bother for anyone else."

It was slow and hesitant at first. But as he watched, she lit up like the sun, glowing from within and projecting all of her happiness directly onto him. It made him warm from top to toe.

The flowers were definitely a good idea.

* * *

She couldn't quite believe it.

But true to his word, he sat in the library across from her, absently flipping through her books and frowning at them.

He looked a bit out of place, rumpled school jumper and polyester trousers a jarring contrast to the sea of sleek St. Animus blazers. But he also looked frustratingly handsome, and she could see that he was attracting covert glances from nearby female students. As well as the occasional male student.

Being wooed was delightful, she decided. As that was surely what this had to be; flowers were romantic, and someone as straightforward as Jacob would never get them for any other reason. She felt a happy flush at the thought again, eager to get home and put the daisies in water, a tangible reminder that whatever was happening was slightly more complex than just hormonal fumbling.

After a while, he stopped fidgeting and folded his hands, tipping his head back and closing his eyes. She leaned across the table and gave him a poke with her pencil. "You know, I appreciate the thought, but you don't have to force yourself to be here."

"No," he said instantly. She recognized that stubborn set to his jaw. "I wanted to spend the afternoon with you. I'm staying."

With a little smile, she set back to work on her notes, determined to get through her calculus as quickly as possible.

* * *

He drifted off at some point. The library was a nice sort of muffled quiet, and he hadn't been sleeping very well since Evie started appearing in his dreams.

He wasn't sure how long he slept, but he awoke to Evie tapping him on the cheek, her bag packed and slung over her shoulder, the light outside fading through the windows. "I'm finished," she said, as he stretched and yawned loudly, earning him a filthy look from some of the other students.

Lurching to his feet, he made to go for the door, but she shook her head.

Beckoning him, she headed further into the library. "I want to show you something."

She led him past tall shelves packed with books, the air growing thicker as they retreated into the stacks.

"I used to volunteer here," she said, "do you remember? And I learned some things."

"Like?"

"Like about here." She came to a stop in a sort of enclosed corner tucked in a darker corner of the library, the shelves absolutely stuffed with books that looked like they hadn't been disturbed in years.

"What about here?"

Motioning him further in, she put her hands on his chest. "This is the law reference section, but all of this has been indexed online…"

"Okay?"

She was starting to look a bit impatient with him for not keeping up. "So no one ever comes back here."

 _Oh_. It finally twigged.

Sliding his hands around her waist, he was about to pull her in for a kiss when she pressed her lips to his chin, and then his neck, and then his chest. He froze as she steadily worked her way down, landing on her knees, face against his stomach in kisses that he couldn't feel through his heavy jumper.

The blood was rushing to his hips so fast that he felt like he might pass out.

When she reached his trousers, he let out a stifled groan.

"Quiet," she whispered, giggling a little. "We're out of sight, not out of hearing."

She was feathering kisses through the fabric now, looking up at him with just the hint of a sly smile. All he could do was watch, immobile, as she unbuttoned his trousers with a flick, sliding the zipper down so she could press a kiss to his boxers.

There was a puff of air as she let out a little sigh. "Will you ask nicely?"

He closed his eyes and felt a surge of… _That_ feeling again, mixed in with the lust and anticipation. The desire to bend her to his will. To dominate. To _own_.

Reaching down, he curled his fingers into her hair. It was braided today, some sort of intricate pattern that was easy to hang onto. Twisting her head back, he made sure she was watching him. "I don't beg, remember?"

There was a twitch of confusion.

"You beg for _me_."

Her eyes took on that dreamy look that he was starting to recognize, her shoulders relaxing. There was the sound of someone coughing in the distance, the reminder of where they were only serving to spike his lust with adrenaline.

Hunching over until his lips almost touched the top of her head, he whispered. "So do it. Beg for me."

"Please," she breathed, barely a sound.

"Please what?"

She was still, so still that she could've been a statue, were it not for the soft texture of her hair and the subtle rise of her chest. "Please let me..." Her words trailed off into silence, swallowed up by the thick carpets and sound dampening miles of books.

"Please let me what?"

He barely recognized her voice, supplicating as it was. "Please let me suck you."

She had to say the words. He gave her hair a quick tug that made her eyelashes flutter. "Suck what?"

Part of him wanted to hurry this along, because his dick desperately needed to be touched. Just as powerfully, though, part of him wanted to drag it out for as long as he could manage, given the obvious effect it was having on her.

The words were breathed against his hips. Some day, he'd get her to say them when she was looking at him- so he could savour what they did to her- but for now, it would do. "Please let me suck your cock."

Straightening, he released her quickly, gripping the shelves around him while she worked to pull his dick free. When she put her mouth on him, it was sloppy and a bit awkward, but he was so enthralled by the view that he honestly didn't give a shit about finesse. If anything, the fact that she was clearly unpracticed gave him a bit of a thrill; he didn't want to think about her doing this with anyone else. He wanted to be her first everything from here on out if he possibly could.

She gave a few tentative bobs before she pushed down on him as much as she could manage, and it took all of his self-control to not groan out loud at the movement. Placing his fingers on the back of her head, he guided her gently until she set a rhythm that made his cock throb, the hot wetness of her mouth endlessly better than anything his hand could ever hope to replicate.

If it was possible to become addicted to someone, he was rapidly becoming dependent.

Suddenly she was adding suction and his brain almost whited out, fingers scrabbling against the shelves. Oh fuck he had to control himself- she eased up and he nearly gasped when she switched to some sort of swirling motion around the tip with her tongue. Clever girl, clever- shit fuck damn it—

She pulled away for a moment and swiped at her mouth. "Good?" she asked, colour high in her cheeks, hair now pulled a little askew from her braids.

"You have no idea," he managed, doing his utmost to not let his knees shake.

She lowered her eyes. "I know I don't really know- I mean, I did a bit of reading about this—"

She had done reading, Christ, of course she had, and for a moment he was more grateful than he had ever been for his sister's studious nature. He put his fingers to her chin and lifted her face again, so he could look at her. "Evie, this is so fucking incredible that I am literally seconds from losing it- speaking of which, unless you have tissues, I need to make a quick exit to the loos."

"Oh no, no," she tucked a stray hair behind her ear, "I can do it."

The sound that his brain made was just incoherent whining. "What."

"I'll just swallow, it's fine."

 _Just_. Fucking _just_ like that wasn't something that'd he lain awake over countless nights, something that he'd probably be wanking off to for the next month and a half.

His silence seemed to make her uncertain. "Unless you don't want me to?"

No no nonono this chance was not passing him by, not in a million years. Summoning some of that old focus, he leant down again, so he could turn her head and whisper against the shell of her ear. "I want nothing more than to come in that pretty fucking mouth." She shuddered out a long sigh and he nipped her earlobe quickly before straightening again.

She was already more confident when she started again, and he immediately realized that all of his effort was going to need to go into being quiet. He'd been trying to hold back and let her lead, but _fuck_ it felt good, and he started to buck his hips in erratic bursts, little thrusts into her warm and willing mouth. To his unrestrained delight, she let him, face scrunching as she tried to accommodate more of him and godfuckingdamnit she was just so cute with her freckles and her hands fisted in her skirt and she looked so innocent and she was fucking sucking him off and ohholychrist-

The release was a tidal wave, building steadily before it abruptly hit the shore with a thunderous roar. He had to stuff his knuckles in his mouth and bite down to stop from making any noise; she made a little whine in the back of her throat as he felt each new spurt rush through him, and he twitched violently at the sensation the sound produced.

Still in awe, he stared as she pulled away and tipped her head back as she swallowed. Somewhat daintily, she rearranged his clothes, zipping him back up- which was just as well, because there was a very good possibility that he was going to fall over if he let go of the shelf.

When she stood, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. "I really appreciate your staying to visit today."

His mind was still swimming. "You do know- that you didn't have to- that I was just happy to visit-"

"I know," she said, shooting him a bright grin. "I just wanted to taste you, that's all."

It was definitely possible to become addicted to a person. He was already a junkie.


	5. Chapter 5

Debate club was on Saturdays. St. Animus always made a good showing at regionals, and Mr. Green was in charge this year, determined to keep them in top shape.

Normally, she took the bus. Normally, she didn't have Jacob half-following her around and offering to do things for her. He was clearly determined to make up for any perceived deficit in affection, because as days rolled by, she kept finding little gifts sitting around. A chocolate bar in her bag. A new set of pencils with little cats on them left on her bed. Cups of hot cocoa at her desk when she came back from practice.

It was lovely.

So, she took him up on his offer to drive her to debate, snuggling happily against his back for the ride.

Practice ran a bit later than usual. Everyone else had mostly left when Mr. Green asked her to stay behind. "Your content is excellent, but we need to talk about your presentation." He gestured to the stage.

When she walked to the podium, he followed her, putting her notes against the stand.

As she stood, she could feel him standing very close behind her, breath almost on her neck. He reached around and put his hands on her forearms. "Place your arms like so, not at your sides." She felt a palm trace her back, coaxing her to straighten. "Hold your shoulders steady."

There was a creak and she saw Jacob slide in the door at the far side of the room, clearly looking to see why she wasn't coming out when everyone was leaving.

Mr. Green didn't seem to have noticed. He stepped around to her side and put his hand to her chin, encouraging her to lift it. "Look slightly over the crowd when you're speaking." His hand lingered just a little bit too long for comfort, just a touch too warm against her skin-

There was a pointed cough from the back of the room. Even from a distance, Jacob looked murderous.

Turning quickly, Mr. Green dropped his hand. "That'll be all, Miss Frye."

* * *

The park was pleasant, a rare and sunny fall day making the colours of the leaves brilliant. Jacob was tucked into his new scarf, a fluffy knitted green thing that had mysteriously appeared in front of his bedroom door last night. Evie had beamed when he wore it down to breakfast.

He liked it here and he liked being here with her, though he would've liked even it better if he could've held her hand. Instead, they sat on a bench and ate ice creams, Evie perching sideways and huddling into her big sweater. Halfway through her cone, she made a face. "Why did I let you talk me into ice cream if I'm cold?"

"Search me. You're always cold."

He wished he could lean over and press a frozen kiss to her lips. Oh well, maybe later.

He crumpled the wrapper and stuffed it in his pocket. "Who was that guy on the stage with you?" It had been jarring to walk in and see a man standing over her, far, far too close, the gesture eerily reminiscent of a lover's slow embrace. He'd had to resist the urge to sprint up and shove the stranger away from her. And give him a solid kick in the gut for good measure.

She gave her cone a delicate lick that made his brain do funny things. "That's just Mr. Green. He runs the debate team. He also teaches my English Lit."

"Don't like him," he muttered. "Don't like the way he was looking at you."

She laughed. "Don't be ridiculous. He's a teacher. Well, trainee, but still."

A teacher who stared at her like she was a feast that he desperately wanted to eat. "Just don't want anyone else touching you, is all."

For a moment, she twisted around and pressed her head to his shoulder, a comforting gesture. But just as quickly, she had to move away; there was the risk that they might be seen by someone they knew, and they just couldn't chance it. Going home wouldn't help, because Father was off for the weekend.

The wind was brisk, even if the sun was warm, and he watched as she huddled deeper into her sweater. "I'm sure loads of girls hit on you at your school, anyway."

"It happens," he conceded. He'd known most of those girls since primary, so they didn't tend to make many attempts, but every now and then he'd get an awkward proposition. Especially once puberty hit. "Doesn't do much, though."

"Really?"

"Of course, because I'm blatantly not interested." He leaned closer and grinned. "I've got something much better." He swiped a finger into her ice cream, leaning back and popping it into his mouth as she protested with a laugh.

* * *

They fell into something of a routine. Jacob would meet her after school and they would race back to make use of the time before Father got home, fumbling and kissing until they both had bruised lips and aching bodies.

The problem was that she was often busy. There was ballet, Latin club, debate, field hockey, and her tutoring job besides; he wasn't exactly free either, between boxing training and mowing lawns on weekends and friends that were beginning to get suspicious.

Sometimes, it got hard to wait.

They were on a fourth brutal day of missed opportunities when her mobile buzzed near the end of her lunch. Lucy and Pearl were in a heated discussion about the relative merits of Oxford and Cambridge, so she politely excused herself and took the call in the hallway.

"Hello?"

"Evie." The words were almost a sigh, Jacob's voice quiet. "Are you busy?"

She smiled into her phone. "Not too busy for you."

"Are you somewhere private?" His tone was… _Hungry_ , almost, and she had to squeeze her legs to try and tamp down a physical response. If only they could find more time to be alone.

She glanced down the hallway. "No, not really."

"Can you go somewhere private?"

Biting her lip, she thought of the various nooks and crannies around the school. "Why?"

He chuckled. "I think you know why."

Her knees felt a bit weak at the thought. Common sense dictated that this was a bad idea, but she wasn't really thinking with her brain. "I think chapel is empty at this hour."

"Kinky. I like it."

She set out down the hallway, dodging students and winding her way towards the older part of the building. "Are you alone?"

There was a sigh. "Barton isn't as big or as nice as your fancy-ass school, remember? No, I'm in the corner of the yard." He chuckled again. " _Chapel_. I'd be lucky to find a broom closet where someone isn't snogging already."

She pushed the old wooden doors open, poking her head into the room. Light played across the tile floor from the stained glass windows, dust twinkling in the air. As she'd expected, it was quiet as the grave, the enclosed space usually empty outside of choir and services. "I was right, there's no one here."

"Excellent. Get comfortable."

She slid into one of the pews in the back row, out of the view of the door, most of her body obscured by the rows of wood. "I really miss you."

The breath that he took was shuddering and long. "I miss you too. Are you-"

"Wait," she interrupted. "When you say you're in the yard-"

"Relax, I'm miles from anyone. Won't be overheard."

"Right." She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to the row in front of her, willing the coolness of the wood to seep into her and ease her burning skin, to calm her thumping heart.

He sighed. "I wish I was with you."

"I wish it too."

"But, I'm not, so you're going to have to pretend your hands are mine."

She closed her eyes and tried to keep her voice even. "I can do that."

His voice slipped into a low and modulated tone, one that caressed up her spine like skimming fingers. "What do you normally do when you're alone?"

Pushing off to the edge of the pew, she steadied herself. "Well, uh…" She was getting better at slipping into telling him things, but there was always that first rush of embarrassment, that hurdle to clear before she could really comply. "I just… Use my hand, focus on the outside…"

"Start with that," he said instantly. "Go on."

"Hang on," she mumbled, "I'll pull down the kneeler, that'll make this easier."

"A kneeler. You're kneeling in a chapel, and about to touch yourself for me." He made a strangled noise. "That is the hottest fucking thing, it isn't even fair."

She giggled a little, the sound turning a bit breathy as she pushed down onto the padded wood and slid her hand up her skirt, pressing her hand to the junction of her thighs.

He made an appreciative hum. "Is your hand over or under your knickers?"

"Over," she sighed, starting to rock a bit back and forth on her knees as she swirled her fingertips. She was used to being in bed, on her back, but this new position was still pleasant. The risk certainly didn't hurt in terms of heightening the sensation, either.

He snapped his tongue. "You're supposed to be me, remember? I'm not patient enough for that. Under."

God, his voice did things to her, made her want to curl right out of her skin. She let herself moan a little louder than usual as she slipped under the fabric, enjoying the way his breath hitched at the sound. "Oh, Jacob…"

"Such a good girl," he whispered, "are you wet for me?"

She slid her fingers down and found that she was embarrassingly ready. "I am," she managed, whispering back in the slightly echoing space.

"Good. Use a finger there."

"But…" She hesitated, uncertain. That was foreign territory, something she didn't generally bother with. "I really don't ever-"

"Finger. Now."

Ugh, that voice. With a shuddering breath, she clamped her eyes shut and pushed her middle digit in, thighs quivering at the unfamiliar movement. Air rushed from her lungs as she pressed, and she could hear a pleased but quiet groan on the other side of the phone.

"Now," he said quietly, "move your hand for me. Imagine me there. That it's me in your pretty cunt."

Her stomach dropped through the floor at the words, so filthy and wrong and _oh so righ_ t. She began to buck, head pressed to the pew in front of her, spine bowed. "Jacob- _Jacob_ -"

"Is it enough?"

As if it could ever be enough without him near. "No."

"Add another finger. Grind against your palm."

It slid in easily, giving that little bit more friction that pushed her towards release. If she closed her eyes tightly and really tried to imagine, it almost could've been him.

"If I were there, I'd flip you over a pew and finger you until you were screaming, you have no idea."

"Oh God," she managed, words hitching with a little sob. "It feels so good-"

"Add another."

Her mind was spinning through a fog of lust, so much that she almost thought she'd misheard him. "What?"

"Another finger. Your fingers are slimmer than mine, and I need you to feel full."

"I can't," she breathed, still bucking, still climbing.

"You will. Now, Evie."

"I can't-"

" _Do it._ "

It was stretching, deliciously too much, three fingers slick with her own wetness, hips almost moving of their own accord. She was close, so close, each grind against her palm another spark next to kindling, a promise whispered in the dark-

"Are you going to come?"

She could distantly tell that she was babbling, but it was beyond her to stop. "I'm so close so so close I need to- oh god so-"

"Good," he said, voice suddenly severe. "Now, stop."

" _What_?" The word was a sob, no longer restrained.

"Be a good girl. Stop for me."

There was no way. She couldn't, not now, not with heaven so close. Not even for him. "I can't- stop-"

His voice was a growl. "You'd better. Or else."

"I- I'm-"

The die was already cast; it was too late, the orgasm rushing on her, making her keen through closed lips and crumple against her own body as it rocked through her from head to toe. She was so _full_ and raw and not sated all at once; she needed him here, needed _him_. It simply wasn't as good on her own, no matter how she tried to pretend. "I'm sorry," she managed when she could breathe again, blinking stars out of her eyes, slowly coming back to earth, aching from the feeling of somehow only wanting more.

"Oh, Evie," he rumbled, the sound pleased and dark all at once. "You are in _so_ much trouble when I get you alone."

The line went dead and she was left shaking, thighs sticky and knees getting sore against the scratchy cushions, panting into the cool silence.


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:** I'm pretty sure that I'm getting to the point where hell would spit me back out in disgust.

* * *

Jacob didn't get his chance for another two solid days.

For the first evening, she was skittish around him, shooting him nervous glances through dinner and giving him a tentative peck on the cheek before bed.

As time passed, though, she relaxed. Either she couldn't keep up that level of tension or she must've hoped he'd forgotten.

He hadn't forgotten.

The opportunity finally opened up when there was a bang at the door after dinner one night. He answered it and found George on the steps, looking impatient.

"Here to take Ethan for a drink," he announced. "He can't keep moping at home."

Father appeared in the doorway. "George?"

"Come on," George said, beckoning to him. "We're going to the pub. Get a pint or two in you, just like the old days."

Father sighed. "I really don't think-"

"No, no, I'm not taking no for answer. You need to start moving forward."

Jacob practically had his fingers crossed behind his back. When Father cast him an uncertain glance, he nodded, trying not to look too eager. "Moping won't bring Mother back, remember?"

George snorted. "Harsh, but the boy speaks truth."

Jacob could see Evie hovering in the doorway of the kitchen, taking in the proceedings. He raised his eyebrows at her and she bit her lip ever so slightly.

Please go, he tried to project to Father. Please go.

"Fine," Father finally said. "I'll get my coat."

George grinned. "Excellent." He cast a look at the twins. "Don't worry, I'll bring him back in one piece."

The front door clicked shut behind both of them and Jacob hovered for a moment by the window, waiting until they rounded the corner in the distance.

When they had, he turned back and locked eyes with Evie.

She _bolted_.

In all honesty, she was probably faster than he was. But she couldn't have been trying very hard, because he caught up to her halfway up the stairs; scooping her up, he tossed her over his shoulder as she laughed, batting at his back with her hands.

By the time they got to the landing, she was squirming so hard that he landed a sharp smack on her rear. That just made her gasp and then laugh harder, the delighted sound making him grin.

He walked to her room- her bed was better for this, with bars instead of a headboard. Flopping her onto the mattress, he slid her tie off the back of her desk chair, quickly moving his hands up her arms.

Silently thanking five years of Boy Scouts, he secured her wrists to the bars, slipping his fingers between her skin and the fabric to make sure there was room to move and not cut off circulation.

"Jacob?" She sounded hesitant, a little nervous. He pressed a kiss to her mouth, enjoying the way she parted her lips for him willingly, hungrily.

He pulled away and brushed her nose with his own. "I seem to recall someone not following orders." Sliding his hands down to her chest, he started to work on her buttons. "Pick a safe word."

Her throat worked as she swallowed. "Uh… Red."

Nodding, he pressed his mouth to the space between her breasts, licking a trail back up to her neck. Latching onto the curve of her shoulder, he started to suck, gently pressing down with his teeth.

Almost immediately, she started to squirm and tug on her bonds. "Hey, you'll- you'll leave a mark-"

He slid a hand under her bra and squeezed, letting the nipple pebble under his hand. Lifting his head, he ran his tongue along the forming bruise. "That's the point."

"But-"

"It's to remind you." He stretched up to her ear. "Who owns you, the next time you don't obey."

Her heartbeat was speeding under his hand, thumping loudly. Fuck, she smelled good, some sort of floral soap and strawberries and arousal all at once. "No one owns me."

"We'll see," he murmured, before lowering himself back to her neck and resuming his work, expanding on the blooming marks on her skin.

This was all still a bit unreal. It was unreal that she was so desperate for him, that she was making little perfect noises under him, that her exquisite body was his to admire. Part of him wished he could tell the whole _world_ who was putting this mark on her, that she let him touch her any way he wanted. It couldn't happen, of course. Pity.

Once he was satisfied with the bruise and with her whimpers, he moved down, pushing the bra up and pressing a soft kiss to the pink buds. Without warning, he closed his teeth down, lightly enough to not really damage, tightly enough to hurt. She let out a hissing sound of surprise and tried to kick at him, but he kept her held down with his weight, adding his tongue until the sounds of pain had transformed into pleasure, her movements shifting from pushing him off to urging him on, her hips grinding against him. He was straining against his trousers now, hard practically from the moment that he'd tossed her onto the bed, days of planning and longing surging to the surface. Grunting, he tugged his shirt off, shoving out of his trousers and socks until he was just in his boxers, enjoying the way her flushed gaze settled on the lump there.

"Soon," he whispered, giving her nose a flick. "Soon."

Her skin was delicious, soft and clean, and he felt like he would never taste enough it. Down, down, he worked his lips along her stomach, peeling off her leggings and tossing them aside.

Easing up her legs, he kissed in small patterns, inching closer to her pretty pink knickers. Right as he got close, though, he switched tactics, biting down on her inner thigh, sucking again to leave a mark. There was something deeply satisfying about knowing he had put something tangible on her pale skin, a reminder of him for days to come.

As soon as his teeth sank into her flesh, she cried out and tried to wriggle away. "Jacob! Ow-"

He lathed the spot with his tongue before he pulled away with a grin. "I know you like this." He phrased it as a statement, not a question; he'd noticed the way she responded to light touches of pain, clutching him tighter as he applied pressure in the right places.

She raised her head up with some difficulty, hair slipping loose from her ponytail, and scowled at him. "No, of course not."

He shrugged and pushed himself up, reclining on his elbow. "Then why do I know I'll find you soaking?"

A pink tinge was creeping across her face. "I'm not."

She was being particularly belligerent today, which just made this better as far as he was concerned. It would make it all the sweeter when she finally caved. "Is that so?"

Lifting her chin, she narrowed her eyes.

That was definitely a challenge. Well, if she wanted to be that way, he could play rough.

Cocking his head at her, he yanked her panties all the way off her legs in quick jerks, feeling the clearly damp fabric with his fingers. After a little moment's hesitation, he rolled them into a ball and crawled over her, gripping her jaw and forcing her mouth open. Before she could complain, he pushed the knickers in, effectively gagging her. "Seems pretty wet to me."

Her eyes were so wide that the whites seemed to glow in the fading light. She was breathing rapidly through her nose, chest rising and falling, gaze full of adrenaline and want.

It suddenly occurred to him that she couldn't use the safe word this way. "Snap your fingers if this needs to stop. Okay? Any time. Promise me."

He waited and her fingers didn't move. Instead, she nodded dumbly, eyes fixed on him.

"Good," he purred, sliding back down between her legs. Parting her dark curls, he found her clit and started to rub with his thumb in the dainty little circles that he knew she liked. Moaning into the fabric, she arched, back lifting off the mattress, legs scrabbling beside him. He waited until her eyes were fluttering shut, her sounds getting pitched and focused.

And then he stopped.

When she frowned down at him, confused, he gave her the biggest shit-eating grin that he could manage before starting again. And once more, when she was really starting to wriggle properly, he stopped.

Her eyes were getting angry now, little furious noises issuing from her throat. She was so damn cute when she was pissed.

Ducking his head down, he pressed his tongue to the ridiculously engorged nub, tracing out her name with little flicks. As he pushed two fingers into her wetness, he felt her clamp down on him, frantically chasing her relief; crooking his fingers, he stroked, listening as she lapsed into moaning. "Such a tight cunt, so wet and ready," he crooned to her skin, her hips shuddering against his mouth. "So beautiful, so perfectly made for me." When her head started to roll, he lifted his lips and stilled, using one hand to press down on her bucking hips, rendering her immobile. "Who owns you?"

There was a muffled keening sound. Reaching up, he pulled the knickers out of her mouth, letting her say a strangled please.

"I asked you a question."

Her fingers tangled into her bonds, gripping them tightly, her teeth gritted. "No one- owns me-"

Shrugging, he stuffed the fabric back in, lowering his head again. She was so wet that it was getting on her sheets, slickness sliding down his hand. He flicked his tongue and sucked until he felt that fluttering start around his fingers, and then he withdrew. Starting. Stopping. Starting. Stopping. Again, again, again. Her noises gradually shifted into one continuous pitched whine, her legs desperately trying to trap him against her skin, her heels kicking against his back in fury each time he stilled. Next time he might need to tie up her feet as well.

He had to slide his boxers off and give his cock some slow strokes, the ache of arousal becoming overwhelming as she wriggled under him. He could feel the sticky pre-come against his thumb, smearing over his skin. If he had to wait, she had to wait. "Patience, sweet girl," he coaxed. "Patience. Take your punishment."

Before long, she was sobbing, bars clattering against the wall as she pulled against her bonds. After one particularly drawn out wail, he moved up over her again, breathing heavily. "This is what happens when bad girls disobey. They don't get to come." He ran a lick along the now-purpling bruise on her neck and pulled the fabric out of her mouth again, tossing it onto the floor. Surely, now, she would submit. "You know what I need to hear. Who owns you?"

The words were blubbered out, her tone beseeching. "You do, you do, you do, please- _please_ let me come-"

"You'll obey from now on, won't you?"

She just nodded wordlessly, frantically, quivering as she wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer. The head of his cock suddenly made bobbing contact with her wetness and they both froze, panting into the air.

Oh _fuck_ that was tempting. She wasn't stopping him and he tried a few tentative movements, not penetrating, just rubbing along her slit. At that, she moaned, trying to angle her hips up for him. He pushed in just a fraction, her warmth enveloping the tip, making his mind go white, and she let out the sweetest whimper-

They could just- it would be- they could-

He snapped his eyes shut and snarled, trying to stay himself. Not now. Come on, Jacob. _Focus_. Not like this.

Pushing her legs down, he swiftly climbed up to straddle her chest, pushing her tits together and thrusting his cock between them in a desperate attempt to replicate that warmth. He was already close, and when she softly moaned out another plea, he was done for; he clapped a straining arm against the wall and held himself as ropes of come spurted out across her chest and neck, sliding down her skin, as satisfying a sight as he'd ever seen.

Shakily, he unpicked the knot and let her hands free, rubbing her wrists where they were red and chafed. "So good," he breathed, pressing kisses to her hands as she squirmed, lips flush and wet, staring at him with undisguised want. "So good for me."

She was pliant now, almost shaking, cheeks streaked with tears. "Please, Jacob, please-"

"I know." He rolled onto his back and motioned her up, pulling one of her legs over so she was straddling his face. "Good girls get rewarded."

Normally, he had the feeling that she would be too embarrassed to do this. But she was much too far gone for embarrassment now. Jesus, what a treat.

He had to be gentle, to go slowly; she was so overstimulated that she would try and pull away if he did anything too roughly. So he kept his licks soft and deliberate, his fingers steady and insistent as she squirmed over him, hands against the wall, her voice throaty and desperate but her words incoherent. He hadn't been working long when he felt her inner walls clench, like so many times before, but this time he let it happen; moments later, she keened out his name and came undone on top of him, wailing as she rocked her hips. It seemed to go on and on, longer than what he'd seen from her before, aftershocks chasing the orgasm as he crooked his fingers, trying to ease it along. Her whole body was shaking by the time she was finished, her lungs gasping out shuddering breaths.

He gently shifted up and helped her relax down beside him, pulling her out of the shirt and bra still hanging off her body. Quickly standing and padding to the bathroom, he returned with a warm wet rag to clean off her chest; using some lotion, he massaged the sore marks on her wrists, giving them kisses as she smiled at him with a benevolent and happy glow. So beautiful. His Evie.

Lying in her bed, he spooned her smaller body against his own, tucking his nose against her hair. It was a luxury to let his fingers trail over her soft skin, to feel the way they touched everywhere, sweaty and sated together.

Eventually, she rolled over to face him, pressing her nose against his tattoo. He couldn't see the smile, but he could hear it. "You're _such_ an asshole."

* * *

It was hard to focus and get ready for the day. She couldn't stop thinking of the moment when he had almost pushed into her, the closeness aching, the anticipation thunderous. Now- with her mind a little clearer- she was glad that he hadn't. At the time, though, she had been furious when he pulled away, ready to kick and beg until he would fulfil that powerful need.

It seemed a sensible time to phone and make an appointment with her GP.

As they were getting on his bike to go to school, she cleared her throat. "I'm getting an IUD next Thursday."

He froze, already gripping the handlebars. Twisting around, he yanked his helmet off, eyes wide. "What?"

Her shrug was as nonchalant as she could manage. "We shouldn't risk anything."

"Well, no, obviously, but…"

She tipped her chin up. "Yes?"

Words seemed to fail him. "Uh, nothing." He shook his head a little, as if trying to blink away sleep. "Let's go."

She had put a scarf on for school, trying to cover the giant hickey on her neck. It had proved impossible to hide; she applied some makeup over it, but it was so mottled and raw that nothing could obscure it completely.

She was barely two steps into the school before she got slapped with a uniform infraction.

So, she was forced to abandon the scarf and endure the snickers of her classmates for the rest of the day, little pointed giggles that she did her best to ignore. A few people point-blank asked her who it was from, but she just shrugged and smiled, hoping it made her seem mysterious.

The strangest reaction came from Mr. Green. He was passing out work sheets but stopped dead when he came to her desk, eyes fixed on the mark. There was a full beat before he cleared his throat and shook his head, moving on.

Evie felt a tap on her shoulder. When she craned around in her chair, Pearl was grinning at her from the desk right behind.

Pearl tossed her head in Mr. Green's direction. "I'd shag him, if I were you."

Evie goggled at Pearl. "I beg your pardon?"

"He's obviously smitten, can't you tell? He can barely keep his eyes off you. You could ace English Lit with no effort."

Jacob had said a similar thing, she remembered, though he was significantly less cheerful about it.

The whole thought made her uncomfortable.

Towards the end of the day, she got a text from Jacob. _Id like to take u away somewhere._

She smiled at her mobile. _That would be nice._

 _Im serious_ , he replied. _Just for a night. To the seaside or something. Maybe next wknd?_

A whole night together. Alone. With no interruptions or risk of being caught. It was an exhilarating thought, delicious, tempting.

She tapped out her response quickly, before she could change her mind. _Let's do it._


	7. Chapter 7

They settled on the small and pretty town of Rye. It was close enough that they could get to it easily, but far enough that there was basically no chance of running into someone they knew.

Jacob picked the Bed and Breakfast, dipping into his fairly meagre savings to pay for it. It was probably more than he ought to have spent on just one night, but he wanted them to go somewhere nice.

She seemed a bit confused by that. Ever practical, she had suggested a motel on the outskirts of London somewhere, but shrugged and accepted it when he insisted. He didn't quite know how to explain that he wanted it to be somewhere special, a memorable weekend for lots of reasons. That he wanted to treat her, show that he could be thoughtful. Romantic.

The fact that he didn't know how to summon the words made him pause. 'I love you' should have been easy enough to say, in principle; they'd been saying it to each other since they were children. It meant something else, obviously, in their new context, but that shouldn't have made it so difficult.

There was that niggling fear that festered under the surface. What if she deliberately misunderstood? What if she didn't return it? She seemed to, but she was hard to read at the best of times, emotions locked up tightly inside an impenetrable fortress of order and discipline.

He told Father that he was going camping with some friends over the weekend, that he'd be out of reach. Father just shrugged and nodded.

* * *

One of her millions of extracurricular activities seemed like the best bet for going away without arousing suspicion.

In the end, she decided to tell Father that she was going to an overnight field hockey practice match. That had happened before, so it wouldn't seem out of the ordinary.

He asked her if she'd need any money, she told him she wouldn't, and that was the end of that.

She also needed to excuse herself from debate practice. Lingering after class, she approached Mr. Green at his desk. "I'm afraid I won't be at practice this weekend. I have a family event I can't miss." Not strictly untrue.

He frowned at her over his books. "We're approaching a crucial time in preparation, Miss Frye. I hope you won't be making a habit of this."

"No, Sir."

"You seem to often be distracted as of late. Is something wrong? Something…" He hesitated. "Something happening at home?"

After a fashion. "Just tired."

He stood to put a hand on her shoulder. Again, she couldn't help but notice that the grip was a little too tight, the touch a little too long. "You can talk to me any time."

"Thank you," she said, giving him a polite smile.

* * *

They left the house at separate times.

She went earlier, carrying her duffel bag over her shoulder and going before anyone else was really awake. They had agreed to meet at the station around midday, but she had an errand she wanted to run.

The store was quiet, but it was somehow still overwhelming. She'd always just gone straight for the beige and white underwear section at the M&S, and this seemed like a totally different ballpark. The sheer array of available colours and styles was sort of making her head spin. Some of these things were ridiculous, made of barely any fabric at all. How could she spend £45 on a scrap of a thong?

She almost bailed.

Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself. This was no more frightening than impending A-levels or a ballet competition. She could do this.

In the end, she settled on a matching set that was black and lacy. It was slightly see-through, which seemed impractical, but she reminded herself that practicality wasn't technically the goal in this case.

It would be nice if he liked it. She had no idea what his preferences were in this area.

The girl at the till praised her choice. "This set is very popular," she said, wrapping it in pretty paper and putting it in a discreet bag.

She suddenly wanted to share with someone. "I'm going away for the weekend with my-" Evie almost stumbled on the word, "-boyfriend." What a strange concept. In all but name, though, that was exactly what he'd been over the past weeks. The thought gave her a sort of tingly happy feeling.

The shop girl did a cheerful little clap. "I'm sure he'll adore it."

Evie hoped she was right.

* * *

Rubbing his hands together nervously, he looked over his packed bag for the last time.

A change of clothes. Sleep things. Toiletries. Condoms. Lube.

He felt a little lightheaded every time he looked at the last two. He'd even settled on wearing a longer coat for the day, mostly because he couldn't trust junior to behave in public in light of what was happening.

Oh, Christ, this was happening.

He wandered down the stairs and grunted his goodbye at Father. Father grunted back.

The wind was chilly when he left the house, impending winter hanging low in the air.

She was waiting on the train platform when he arrived, tucked into a warm scarf and boots. He wished he could greet her with a peck on the cheek, but he settled for quickly squeezing her hand, wiggling his eyebrows at her as she giggled.

The train ride was long. They sat across from each other and she worked on her homework; he was grateful for the coat over his lap, because she would occasionally wrap her lips around the end of her pen and suck thoughtfully. Bloody distracting.

They stood outside Rye station, getting their bearings. He fiddled with google maps on his phone and turned to her. "We can go get something to eat, if you'd like, or we can head straight to the hotel."

She stepped close to him, her lips an inch from his ear. "I think you know what I'd prefer."

* * *

She had been nervous to check in. Everything was in his name and she knew that they didn't even look particularly related, but she still couldn't relax until they had the key and were alone.

The attendant had barely left the room before they fell on each other. Coats and hats, scarves and shoes were tossed aside as they grappled, almost wrestling each other towards the bed.

He had pushed her down on the plush coverlet and was tugging her shirt up when she remembered her new underwear, still sitting in its pretty paper. "Hang on," she said, tapping him quickly on the shoulder. He responded by feathering ticklish kisses to her stomach, fingers lightly tracing her waist until she was laughing. "Jacob, hang on!"

He finally looked up and pouted. "What?"

"I need to get ready."

His brow creased. "Get ready… How?"

Wriggling out from under him, she leaned down to press a kiss to his nose. "Trust me."

Shrugging, he shuffled up on the bed, crossing his arms behind his head. The bed itself was huge, a fancy Victorian looking thing that took up most of the available space other than a small dresser and table for making tea. The whole room was fairly ornate, with patterned wallpaper and a soft carpet.

Now that they were here, she was glad they hadn't gone with a motel. It would've made the whole thing seem a lot more… Grubby.

"Two minutes," she promised, grabbing the bag and going to the bathroom.

It was quite nice in its own right, with a sizeable shower and a deep claw foot bathtub. She would definitely need to use that later.

Slipping out of her things, she pulled on the bra and panties, stopping to look in the mirror. Considering her reflection, she undid her bun, combing her hair with her fingers in an attempt to make it a bit fluffier. Turning a bit this way and that, she tried a pout in the mirror. Ugh, no, bad idea, it just made her look petulant.

She didn't feel particularly sexy. She mostly felt nervous. God, he'd better not laugh at her for trying too hard or something. He'd looked so good on the bed, fitted t-shirt and jeans showing off the benefits of all that boxing, and she wanted him so badly that it almost hurt.

Adjusting the bra slightly so it pushed her breasts up a bit more, she took a deep breath, opened the door, and stepped back into the room.

Jacob had moved from the bed to the table, where he was fiddling with the kettle. "I think this might be broken, I can't get it t- ohholychrist." He dropped the kettle on the table, where it bounced off to the floor.

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"I- uh," he stammered, voice now a bit more high-pitched than usual. "You, um. I…"

She gestured to herself. "Do you like it?"

He had lapsed into staring at the bra, mouth hanging a little open.

A bit impatient, she stepped towards him and was about to ask again when he held up a hand.

"Hang on," he said faintly. "I'm preserving this image so I can keep it until I die."

Feeling a surge of confidence at his words, she grinned and attempted a slow spin, wiggling her hips a little.

"Fuck," he rasped, the sound drawn out and faint.

When she completed her turn, she found that he had taken a few steps toward her, now just out of reach.

He almost looked nervous. "Can I…" he said slowly, putting a hand out towards her.

Reaching out and tangling his fingers with her own, she pulled him closer, pressing his hand to her breast.

He was on her in an instant, his mouth crushed against her own with almost angry intensity, his other hand snaking around her hip so he could yank her to him. When she moaned and arched against him, he slid both hands to her ass and picked her up off the ground, her legs wrapping around his waist as he conveyed them to the bed.

"Fuck, Evie," he moaned, setting her down on the edge and kneeling before her. "I think you're trying to kill me."

He ran his thumbs along the lace of her panties and she spread her legs wider, gasping when he tucked the thin band aside and slid his thumb into her.

"Fuck," he said again, leaning forward and pressing a kiss through the fabric, his breath hot. "So fucking beautiful."

The words made her relax a bit more, mind going cloudy and blank, a curled heat coiling in her hips. He was wearing far too many clothes as far as she was concerned, and she wrapped a hand into his shirt, tugging wordlessly.

Withdrawing his thumb, he moved up over her and pulled his shirt off, running a hand along her cheek. "Look at you," he breathed, his tone awestruck. She leaned back to lie on the bed and he followed the movement, lowering his head and running his tongue along the sheer fabric of the bra, the contact sending a surge of electricity straight to her hips. "Fucking perfect. I can't even decide what I want to do first." A hand was tweaking her other nipple and she moaned under him, running her hands along his shoulders.

"Please," she breathed.

"Tell me what you want," he said, voice low.

She briefly felt that usual surge of embarrassment but decided that today, she wanted to be bold. Propping herself up on her elbows, she looked down at him, drawing her legs up around his hips. "I want you to fuck me."

She could've sworn that she saw his pupils dilate at her words, breath becoming ragged. "Pretty sure I should get you off first."

"No." She put a hand to his hair, letting her fingers run through the soft strands. "I want you to fuck me."

"I want you to be ready-"

"Jacob," she said, starting to feel a bit impatient. "I have been thinking about this for over a week now." She could feel the stickiness on her thighs and she took his hand, sliding it between her legs and under the fabric, pressing two of his fingers against her entrance, sighing with pleasure as they slid in easily. "I'm ready. Fuck. Me."

"Jesus," he breathed. "So bossy." She squirmed as she realized he was scissoring his fingers, trying to stretch her, prepare her for something much bigger. It was too much and entirely not enough all at once when she felt a third finger push in, pressing steadily. "So impatient."

"Please," she moaned, trying to move against his hand, "please-"

He smothered her words with a kiss as she scrabbled at his jeans, popping the button and sliding the zipper down. Palming his cock through his pants, she heard him hiss in a breath through his teeth.

He gently pulled his hand away and tugged her panties down, following it by sliding his jeans and boxers off in a smooth movement. When she reached towards him, he slid his hands around her back and unhooked her bra, dragging it off her arms. "It's pretty," he murmured, "but I like seeing you bare."

They moved up to the middle of the bed, his larger body practically caging hers underneath him. She went to try and stroke him, but he grabbed her wrist, holding her at bay.

"This is already probably going to be fairly short," he said, sounding a bit strained. "Let's not make it worse."

She giggled at him and pulled him down for a kiss instead, parting her lips, sucking his tongue into her mouth. He was grinding against her again, his cock hot and slick, just teasing, just barely pushing into her. The anticipation was building like static electricity, ready to snap against her at any moment. Lying back on the pillows, she twitched her hips at him, trying to encourage him. "Please, Jacob-"

He looked punch drunk. "I have condoms in my bag- and some lube-"

The words slowly drifted through the fog in her brain, taking a while to settle. "… What? Do we need either of those?"

He swallowed. "Well I don't know how careful you want to be, and I don't want to hurt you-"

The surge of emotion was as powerful as it was unexpected. This was all so confusing- and in many ways, incredibly fucked up- and there he was, in the middle of it all, trying to be a gentleman. She tugged him down for another kiss, and when he pulled away, she gave him the softest smile she could manage. "The IUD is enough. Unless you have herpes and you haven't told me."

He laughed at that. "No, no chance to have gotten anything, I'm afraid."

"As for the lube…" She tucked her hips lower against him, heartbeat speeding as she nudged a little bit more of him inside. God, it was big- she had to wave away a little flutter of nerves. "Does it feel like we need it?"

"Not really," he agreed, sounding a bit strangled.

"Well then," she breathed. "What are you waiting for?"

Closing his eyes and smiling, he nodded, the movement almost rueful. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, moved a hand to her hip, and gently started to push.

Oh, dear God. It felt a bit like being pinched, except somehow in reverse, the intrusion slick and hot. She tried to relax, ease the muscles in her stomach, but it was all so much and every time she thought that surely, now, he was finished, there would be another little stretch, another little push-

His hips finally bumped against hers and she let out a little shuddering breath.

"You okay?" He was searching her face, looking worried.

"It's a lot more than fingers," she managed.

There was a flash of male pride that he quickly wiped off his face. "We can stop?"

"No," she said instantly, "don't stop."

With a deep breath, he pulled out slowly, pressing in again at that same excruciating pace. By the fourth or fifth stroke, she was starting to feel an undertone of something different, an aching sort of pleasure that raced through her body. She dug her nails into his shoulders, finally starting to move herself, pushing her hips up to meet him.

"Fuck," he breathed, eyelids fluttering. "So tight, Evie, fuck."

The pain had almost completely subsided now, replaced by a sort of ravenous hunger that stretched through her whole body. "More," she moaned out, enjoying the way it made his breath hitch.

She hooked her ankles around him as he sped up, tangling a hand in his hair and gasping with each thrust. She couldn't do more than risk a glance at his face, his eyes were so intense and searching; instead, she focused on his chest, with that delicious little trail of hair, his arms, muscular and solid beside her, his broad shoulders moving under her hands.

His voice was strained. "This feel good?"

God, yes. "So good, please-"

She felt his self control fall away as he started to fuck her in earnest, each stroke hard and sweet, painful in such a perfect way, new and strange and she was so glad that she was learning this with him, that she felt so safe and beautiful and ravished all at once-

"Evie," his breathing stuttered and he tucked his head against the crook of her shoulder, the snap of his hips becoming irregular, "fuck, I'm sorry, I'm-"

"Come in me," she breathed.

He made a desperate noise and gave a few last hard thrusts, each one forcing a gasp from her, his body slumping on top of her when he finally stilled with a shuddering sigh.

She felt something leak against her thigh, warm and wet.

"S' sorry," he slurred. "That was fast and- and you didn't even come-"

She wondered if a giggle would hurt his pride. Instead, she reached around and patted him on the back. "We still have lots of time- I'm sure I will before the weekend is over."

He nuzzled into her ear with a happy sound. "As many times as you can manage, I promise."

* * *

She was curled against his chest, shoulders rising and falling as she breathed. The afternoon light was peeking around the edge of the curtains. They would have to go look for food soon, but for now, it was nice to just lie together, not having to listen for someone coming home or for footsteps in the hallway.

From his position, slightly propped up on the bed, he could see where _that_ bra was tossed on the floor.

Christ. When she'd first come out in that, he thought he was going to have a heart attack. She looked like a pin-up girl had wandered off the page.

She turned slightly. "I think I'm going to take a bath, do you want to join me?"

Did he ever. "Sure."

Once the water was high enough, they crowded in, her back against his chest as she sat between his legs. He moved his hands to her shoulders, rubbing in small circles against the tense muscles, enjoying how she sighed happily and relaxed against him.

He pressed a kiss to the back of her neck and breathed in her sweet scent. The words came out before he had time to even think about them, sneaking from his lips in a whisper. "I love you."

For a fraction of a second, he froze in fear, worried that he had somehow overstepped-

"I love you too," she said, easily, naturally, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.


	8. Chapter 8

They eventually left to go find food. When he first reached for her hand, she nearly flinched away out of habit; it was a glorious feeling to remember that here, they were anonymous. She leaned into his arm for the whole walk, smiling as their breaths created little puffs in the air.

They shared a packet of fish and chips, huddled closely on a bench overlooking the main street. The fish was delicious, warm in her stomach, and she was licking the salt and vinegar off her fingers when she caught him staring.

"What, do you want me to clean yours off too?" She reached out and took his hand, daintily sucking the tips into her mouth.

He made a plaintive sort of noise.

She pulled away and laughed. "Men. You make it so easy."

"You're not so immune yourself," he grumbled.

She took another chip. "Yeah?"

His breath was hot on her ear, his grip tight. "All I have to do is tell you how much I want to be inside you again- how I want you to scream my name as you come on my dick."

Ok, maybe he had a point. The words did make her chest grow tight, her hips go warm. But two could play at that game. "It doesn't matter how much you try and tease, because I can top it all with…" She counted in her head. "Four words."

"Yeah? Go on then."

Leaning in close, until they were almost pressed together in a kiss, she gave him a slow smile. "Ballerinas are _very_ flexible."

The paper from the fish and chips crumpled in his hand. "Are you ready to go? I'm ready to go. Let's go, shall we?" He stood and held his hand out to her as she laughed, carefree, all too ready to head back to the hotel.

* * *

This time, he was determined to do things right.

She had been nice about that first round, but frankly, he wasn't sure if he deserved it- between her lack of orgasm and the way he finished almost immediately, his pride was a bit wounded.

Back in the hotel, he scooped her up in the hallway and carried her over the threshold, grinning as she had to duck to avoid bonking her head.

She rolled her eyes. "It's not romantic if I get wounded."

It was easy to properly toss her onto the bed in retaliation, given how big the damned thing was. As she laughed, he carefully, tenderly, unlaced her boots and pulled them off her feet, setting them neatly aside. Next, he leisurely peeled her socks off, pressing a slow kiss to the arch of each foot as she giggled, ever ticklish. Climbing over her with a grin, he unpicked the buttons of her coat, easing it off her shoulders, nuzzling against both curves of her neck once he could see the white skin of her shoulders.

"Hurry up," she breathed, voice shaky.

"Patience," he murmured, easing her up to tug her jumper and shirt off in one motion, pressing kisses down her front.

God, that bra. He could see just a hint of dusky pink through the black lace, good enough to eat. As he licked, swirling his tongue, her breath hitched higher and higher, her wriggling growing more pronounced under his mouth. There would be no bites today; just soft, sweet, kisses until she was a melting puddle in his hands.

Which looked it was going to happen fairly quickly.

He switched nipples and she wound a hand in his hair, trying to push him down. Ignoring her pointedly, he held firm, only slipping down her front when she gave up and let go. He was in charge now.

Her jeans came off fairly easily, given that she was practically shoving them down by the time he got there. He spent a while working over the lace again, mostly because he could, and because it seemed to be driving her mad in the best possible way. When he finally slid the damp fabric off, she was begging incoherently, one continuous series of beautiful 'please' sounds and moans. Each one made his cock twitch in his pants, and he had to give a few quick rubs through the fabric to try and take off the worst of the edge- he could wait. He would wait.

Refocusing, he gave her clit a flick and she jumped. "Let's see this famous flexibility then."

Taking a deep breath, she lifted her legs up and up until they were nearly parallel with her head. Almost despite himself, he was impressed.

"Useful," he murmured, and she made a desperate noise. "Can you hold them there?"

"Yes," she said instantly, almost a little scornful. As if it was hardly a question worth asking.

"Good," he chuckled, before he nuzzled down and started with a long, slow lick.

She wanted more, he could tell, she wanted fast and hard and rough. But he was determined, as before, to go slowly; he alternated between swipes and swirls, quick sucks and open mouthed kisses, really taking the time to note the reaction to each movement and its impact. For once in their lives, they had all the time in the world.

"Jacob," she shuddered, lifting herself a little. "Please-"

He popped his head up. "Oh, you want to enjoy the view? Why didn't you say?" Leaning over, he yanked a few of the pillows over to prop up her back, grinning wickedly at her blushing confusion.

She let go of her legs and gradually let them descend into the splits as she settled back at an angle. Damn, that really was impressive. "That's not exactly what I…"

The rest of her words were lost to choked sounds when he returned to his work with enthusiasm, humming to show his pleasure for her benefit. When he peered up, he saw round eyes fixed on him, her face flushed red, her mouth open and quivering. Fucking beautiful.

By the time he slid his fingers into her, she almost sounded like she was in tears, ragged breaths combined with little mewling sounds of pleasure. It was time, he decided, to finally try and hurry things along a bit- he could feel sticky precome leaking in his boxers, and he was so hard that it almost sort of hurt.

It didn't take long. As he pumped his fingers, her sounds changed in pitch until her legs suddenly snapped down and around his neck. She came completely silently, her mouth open but her throat apparently paralyzed, her back arching off the mattress in an incredible curve- it seemed to finish just as quickly, as she collapsed down against the mattress once more.

He rocked back on his heels, jaw a bit sore, but pleased. "Good?"

She responded by yanking him up by his jumper onto the bed, dragging his jeans and boxers down past his hips in ragged movements, and straddling him to sink down onto his cock with almost no warning.

Oh _fuck_ yes.

They moaned in unison, his sound almost a growl, their satisfaction mixing in the still air. It was much easier for him to slide all the way in this time; she was still tight, but she was much wetter. It made him vaguely wish she'd let him go down on her the first time around, before she started to move and all thoughts were wiped from his mind entirely.

She was grinding against him, leaning on her knees, head thrown back and tits bouncing like the best fucking porno that he could possibly imagine. "Jacob," she pleaded, his name getting stretched out into a plaintive sound, "Jacob-"

Her fingers were yanking so tightly at the fabric of his jumper that he was pretty sure it was ruined, but he didn't give a damn. "Does that feel good, love?"

"So good," she breathed, rocking her hips back and forth now, chasing something that he couldn't see. "It feels so _fucking_ good, Jacob-"

Wow, okay, so that was new. And hot. Super hot. He palmed a breast and tightened his fingers on a nipple as she worked over him, tight and hot and wet. "You feel pretty fucking great yourself."

Her eyes were closed now, face scrunched up, every part of her tensing and shaking. "Jacob- _Jacob_ -"

Unless he was very mistaken, that was a good sign. He reached down to tentatively rub at her clit, whispering into the air as gently as he could, "come on, Evie, come for me again, I want to see your face as you come-"

That did it. She fucking _wailed_ as the second one hit her, cunt pulsing, legs shaking, getting so tight all at once that for a moment he thought he might go blind. Her hands scrabbled against him as he gave her a few good thrusts to try and help it along, her cries becoming jagged and broken with each movement of his hips. The sheer satisfaction of knowing that he'd made her come- twice- was enough to give him another heady rush of arousal, snapping through him like lightning.

Finally finished, she held herself rigid for a few seconds before she flopped onto him, her moan long and satisfied.

Which meant it was his turn, thank God, because he needed to move from this gentler pace to proper _fucking_ , and he needed to do it _now_.

Rolling on top of her and shuffling off the side of the bed, he yanked her until her legs were hanging off the edge, her loose hair trailing behind her on the coverlet, surrounding her head like a cloud. Lying on her back, she blinked at him with languid eyes, small smile on her lips, inviting, sensuous. Hooking her ankles against his shoulders, he pushed back into her, taking a few thrusts to get his bearings before he starting pounding as fast as he could, fucking her into the mattress with all of his strength as his belt rattled around his calves. Her eyes practically rolled into the back of her head at the force of it, her hands wrapping into the coverlet tightly, little broken sounds of pleasure and delight tearing from her throat.

When the orgasm surged- still quick, but hell, there was only so much he could do- he let it happen, let it draw up and take over. Hunching over her, he gripped her hips and sucked in deep breath after deep breath as he came harder than he was pretty sure he'd ever come before in his life, the satisfaction of it so primal and raw that he almost roared.

His legs nearly fucking gave out when it ended. Collapsing on top of her, he waited for his brain to gradually collect itself as she stroked his hair, the touch of her hand soft and gentle.

"Wow," she finally breathed into the silence, voice shaky.

"Wow," he agreed, heart pounding fit to burst.

* * *

They snuck in one last romp before it was time to leave the next morning, heading back to the train dishevelled and happy.

She nudged him with her foot on the ride home. "I don't know how we're going to go back to days of not being able to touch each other again."

"Not my favourite," he agreed. "But, hey, not long before we move away from home, right?"

They hadn't spoken about this before, even though it loomed large in her mind. "What…" she trailed off. "What happens then?"

He looked out the window thoughtfully. "You'll be going off to uni. I have no plans; I'll just follow you. We can get a place."

It was deliciously tempting. A little flat somewhere, for just the two of them. They could be together exactly as they pleased, never having to worry about prying eyes or opening doors. "But I don't even know where I'm going yet."

"It doesn't matter." He shrugged and grinned at her. "Don't really care as long as you're there- I waited too long to have you, I'll just enjoy it for a little while."

There was that welling emotion again, making her chest feel so full that it almost hurt. "You make it sound so easy."

His smile got wider, handsome and charming enough to make her breath catch in her throat. "Because it is, Evie. Because it is."


	9. Chapter 9

They had been back home for almost a week when he popped into her doorway one morning, grinning like an idiot.

She paused from pulling up her socks to raise an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Given our limited one-on-one time, I got you a present." He passed her a small box.

Tilting her head at him, she opened it. Inside, there was a small and compact bent vibrator, one designed to gently squeeze the clit and G-spot at once. She blinked at it very slowly, picking it up in her hand and turning it around. "You can't be serious."

"Deadly serious," he replied. "And look, watch." He pulled out his mobile and fiddled with it for a moment, and the vibrator began to gently buzz in her palm.

Sweet mercy. "Oh," she said dumbly, taking in the remote-controlled implications.

He tucked a finger under her chin, moving her gaze back to him. "I want you to wear it today."

"Today?" But- today was school, she had classes all day, and there was tutoring in the afternoon-

"Today," he said firmly, gently tracing her lip with his thumb. He plucked it from her hand and moved it up her thigh, under her skirt, until he was tracing the fabric of her knickers with the vibrating toy. She was already feeling a bit lightheaded, but the contact sent blood rushing to all the right places; she wrapped her fingers in his jumper as he chuckled, clearly pleased with her reaction.

Tucking the fabric aside, he pushed it into place. It went in distressingly easily, considering that she'd been stone-cold calm less than two minutes ago.

Oh, that was nice. Very nice. Almost too nice.

With a few quick taps to his mobile, he deactivated it, leaving her a bit breathless. "There we go."

She squirmed around the intrusion, unfamiliar and heavy. "But- if you're going to turn it off, then why-"

"Oh, it won't be off all day." He leaned forward to peck her on the cheek. "Trust me."

* * *

He had been fiddling with the settings on and off throughout the morning. For an hour, he tried a slow, low buzz; for the next hour, he left it off entirely, trusting that the suspense of it would be almost as excruciating.

Shortly before lunch, he pulled his mobile out under his desk and set it to an alternating rhythm with a few quick taps. Staring at his phone for a moment, he turned up the intensity.

Less than a minute later, his screen lit up with a call from her.

Excusing himself to go to the loos, he waited until he was tucked in a private corner to pick up. "Hello?"

"You _asshole_ ," she hissed, an angry cat in her distress. "I was in _physics_ , I had to ask to leave class to go to the toilet- turn it off right this instant!"

He grinned and relaxed against the wall. "Oh, oh right. So sorry. One moment." Minimizing the conversation, he pulled up the app, and dialled up the intensity another two notches.

Even with his phone away from his head, he could hear her frantic squeal. "You- you bastard dickhead sonuva _bitch!_ "

"You know we have the same Mother, right?" With a swipe of his finger, he changed the rhythm to a steady one and lowered the speed a bit, enjoying the way that she moaned into the phone.

"I can't study like this," she panted.

He considered it. "You can take it out, if you'd like."

"Really?"

"But there will be punishment if you do."

She made a strangled noise. "That's not fair."

"I don't make the rules." He stopped to laugh. "Oh, wait, I do." Frankly, he didn't care which decision she went with- either way was a win for him.

Her fury was perfect. "I'm going to _kill_ you."

The line went dead. Shaking his head, he left the vibrator turned on and went back to class.

* * *

When he picked her up, she looked a lot less composed than she usually did, the colour high in her cheeks. She clutched him particularly tightly as they drove home, knees clenched against his thighs.

Once inside, she pressed him to the wall in the front hallway and practically attacked him with a kiss, frantically grabbing his hand and shoving it under her skirt.

"Whoa, whoa," he managed, holding her away. "So what happened?"

"I-" she hesitated. "I couldn't keep it in for class," she said, tone pleading. "But the breaks, and lunch, and after, I did." She was pressing kisses all over his face, breathless and adorable in her eagerness. "So I did as you asked."

Hmm. He looked up at the ceiling. "I don't think that counts."

Her mouth fell open. "What?"

"Yeah, no, that definitely doesn't cut it." He tugged her head aside and lightly bit down on her earlobe, sliding a hand under her shirt. "I seem to remember you promising that you would obey from now on- I think you need another lesson."

Her face was turning pink. "You- I- you-"

There was the slam of a car door just outside. Father, home early. They leapt apart, Evie hurrying away to her room while he tried to adjust the wood in his trousers to be a touch less noticeable.

"Jacob," Father greeted him as he came through the door, looking as tired as he always did of late. "Good day?"

"Excellent," he agreed.

* * *

Much later that night, there was a knock on his door, soft and tentative. Evie crept in, clad in a tank top and sleep shorts, reaching for him with a smile. "Father's passed out again," she whispered.

"Perfect," he murmured. "Here for your lesson?"

She froze and frowned. "You're not still going on about that."

"Going on about- damn right, I'm going on about it. I asked you to do something, and you disobeyed."

Sniffing, she turned up her nose. "You're being unreasonable."

"Not at all," he said calmly. "When you're ready, we'll begin, but if that's not what you're here for…" He gave her a little wave. "Have a good night."

Huffing, she stomped out of the room.

The next day, she determinedly ignored him, refusing to answer his questions or texts. Later in the evening, just as he was debating going out- given that nothing seemed to be happening here- she knocked on his door.

When she came in, she had her bathrobe on, her hair still damp from the shower. The sweet smell of her shampoo wafted across the room, effectively short circuiting his brain as he breathed in soap and strawberries.

Striding over purposefully, she gave him a slow smile before she peeled the robe off, revealing that fucking hot lingerie from their weekend away; as he blinked at her, mind suddenly blank, she slid down his front onto her knees, tugging at the band of his sweatpants-

"Hang on," he managed, shaking his head a bit foggily. "Are you trying to seduce me into forgetting about yesterday?"

She turned flaming red. "Is it… is it working?"

He couldn't help it; he started to laugh, tucking her hair behind her ear with a fond smile. "It's hot as hell, but you don't get out of it that easy, I'm sorry."

She pouted and lowered her face, so he leaned down to stroke her chin, smiling as she hopefully looked back up at him.

In an instant, he tightened his grip, digging his fingers into her skin. "So are you ready to beg for forgiveness?"

She jumped to her feet, tucking her robe back around her body, actually stomping on the carpet like a child. "You are infuriating!"

And in a whirl, she was gone.

Sitting back down at his desk, Jacob sighed, spinning his pen in his fingers. She wasn't actually upset, was the thing. If she was genuinely afraid, he would've stopped in an instant. One time, when they were nine, they both climbed up to go on a tall water slide; once they were at the top, she panicked, breaking into tears about how it was too high and too much. When he thought about it, he was pretty sure it was the only time he'd ever seen her truly afraid.

If he had seen even a flicker of that panic in their new arrangement, he would've backtracked so fast that it left dust clouds in his wake. But this didn't feel like that. Instead, it felt like she was testing him, pushing the boundaries to see what she could get away with.

Plus, there was the fact that- in the end- Evie _never_ did something that she didn't want to do.

The next day was a repeat of her frosty silence. Later in the evening, he was about to leave to go see his friends when her head poked out of her bedroom door.

Her expression was… Irritated, to put it mildly. "Going somewhere?"

"Out," he said simply.

She chewed on her lip, brow furrowed, before she marched down the hall, grabbed his arm, and dragged him back into his room.

Her gaze was trained on his feet, her brow furrowed and her hands clenched. She mumbled something. It was too quiet to catch in its entirety, but he was pretty sure the word 'punishment' was in there somewhere.

"Sorry?" He prompted. "Didn't catch that?"

She took a deep breath and ground out the words. "I'm ready for my punishment."

Hot damn. Moving slowly, he crowded her against the door, leaning down to bite at her neck. "Say it again."

Her voice was weaker this time, almost whispered. "I'm ready for my punishment."

He felt like crowing with glee. "Why do you have to be punished?"

She shifted, and he was sure that she could feel the raging hard-on he was now pressing against her hip. "Because I disobeyed."

"We don't have to, you know," he murmured. "I'm quite happy to go out and leave you to your own devices."

Her arms encircled him, clutching at his back. "Please don't."

"You'll listen?"

"I will."

"You promise?"

She took a deep and shuddering breath. "I promise."

"Okay." He pressed his forehead to hers. "Our dearest Father is awake and quite coherent at the moment, so it can't be tonight, I'm afraid."

She let out a little pitiful noise of distress.

"I know, I know, I'm disappointed too. But tomorrow. Can you wait until tomorrow?"

There was a trembling moment of silence. Finally, she nodded against his shoulder.

"Wonderful," he breathed. "But I'll need you to do something for me."

* * *

Of _course_ he would demand that she wear that infernal thing again. She ought to have denied him. She ought to have turned him down, called him unreasonable, and put her study as her first priority.

But three lonely nights had worn her down.

The vibrator worked at a steady hum all day, enough to be distracting but not enough to offer any kind of relief. The urge to reach down and touch herself was maddening, but she had promised she wouldn't, so instead she just clenched her hands until her nails dug little crescent moons into her palms.

She couldn't remember anything that was covered in class, or that might have been discussed by her friends. At multiple points throughout the day, people stopped and asked her if she was feeling quite all right. Yes, she stammered, of course. Just tired.

Jacob texted her periodically _. Still being good?_

 _Yes_ , she texted back. _Yes, yes, yes._

She somehow got to the end of the school day. Jacob gave her a cheery wave when she met him outside. All she could manage was a weak nod, which just made him smile harder. Bastard. Handsome, sexy bastard.

This would all be much easier if she didn't enjoy it so damn much.

The ride itself seemed to take forever, and the walk from the bike to their front door felt like an age. Over the threshold, she reached for him, but he stepped away. "Go upstairs," he murmured, pressing his fingers to her lips. "My room. Strip. Down to nothing- actually, no, keep the knee socks on, but nothing else. Wait on the bed."

Closing her eyes, she nodded, plodding slowly up the stairs, each rub of her thighs more torturous than the last.

She left her things on a crumpled heap on his floor. Lying on the covers, wondering what it was that he liked about the socks so much, she crossed her legs tightly and desperately resisted the urge to relieve the ache with her fingers.

Before long, the door creaked open and he stepped in. "Beautiful," he murmured. "Take your hair down."

She tugged the braids out as he went to his closet and pulled out a pristine looking tie. Extended relatives had a habit of sending them for Christmas, clearly not knowing that Jacob would only wear a tie in a casket. Or possibly for his own wedding.

He nudged her into sitting up and then off the bed; walking her to the desk, he pulled out his chair and sat, motioning for her to turn around. In brisk movements he bound her wrists together behind her back, her heartbeat speeding with anticipation as the soft fabric tightened. He turned her again when he was done. "Gorgeous," he said, giving her nipple a flick that made her jump. "Love the way that makes your tits pop."

With a hand on her shoulder, he pressed down until she knelt, leaning back to peer at him.

Undoing his belt, he looked her up and down. "So tell me, did you come today?"

"No," she said, hating how plaintively it came out. "Almost, twice."

"What happened?"

"The first time, the vibrator stopped right before I could." She had nearly wailed in frustration right in the middle of class. "The second time, someone bumped into me in the hallway and it threw it off."

He pulled out his cock and gave it a few long, lazy strokes. "But you never took it out?"

"No," she said immediately, edge of desperation in her voice. "Never."

"Such a good girl," he murmured, the words sending another shot of heat through her. "Come here."

She shuffled towards him awkwardly, carpet scratchy under her knees.

Reaching into his pocket, he drew out his mobile. In moments, the vibrator buzzed into a racing pitch, easing and speeding, easing and speeding. He chuckled as she cried out, instinctively wriggling back and forth to try and get away from the abrupt stimulation.

"Here's what's going to happen," he said evenly. "This stays on until I finish. Understand?" She tried to lean forward, but he held her at an arm's length. "And snap your fingers if everything needs to stop, and it stops in an instant, got it?"

Nodding frantically, she bumped her forehead against the fabric of his jumper before awkwardly taking him into her mouth, pushing her head down as deeply as she could. With a bit of practice, she could now go almost until her nose brushed the curling hair at the base, hollowing her cheeks and breathing through her nose.

She tried to keep her strokes smooth and steady, but it was difficult with the vibrations rocking her hips. The long day had left her overstimulated; the first orgasm hit her almost immediately and with no warning, making her let out a strangled noise around his cock. As it eased, the vibrations picked up again, mixing quivering pleasure with tingling pain.

"Mm," he hummed, tilting his head back and winding a hand in her hair. "Was that the first one?"

She nodded, moaning, until he let her pull away. "Please, it's too much, let me-"

"Not a chance," he said, pushing her head back down.

Every few thrusts, he would nudge the back of her throat, making her gag; each time, he would draw back and let her take a shuddering breath before resuming, fucking into her mouth with a fierceness that made her tremble.

"Fuck," he groaned, voice strained. "You look so fucking good with my cock in your pretty mouth."

It was happening again, a tingling surge racing through her body, but it was too soon after the first- when it hit, it sat just on the razor's edge of pain, delicious and terrible and everything and nothing all at once. When she keened, he moaned as well, apparently feeling the sound in her mouth. As the shocks subsided, she was so raw that it felt like she could feel every pump of blood in her hips, every brush of air that touched her skin.

She peered up at him, eyes watering, and he drew in another shuddering breath. "That feel good, love?"

 _It's so much,_ she wanted to say, _it feels good but it's so much, please, please-_

They weren't even really orgasms any more, just showers of sparks that were concentrated tightly between her legs, making her writhe and moan as she tried to keep bobbing her head rhythmically. They blended together until she lost count, unable to think, unable to breathe, lost in them as they wracked her body-

His fingers tightened in her hair and he gripped her still as he came in spurts down her throat, salty and warm. Gasping, he drew away and fumbled for his mobile as she swallowed, and in moments everything was mercifully still.

She crumpled against the floor, twitching, and he let out a dark chuckle. "Good?"

"Help," she mumbled sleepily, half a smile plastered on her face. "I can't feel my legs." Her whole lower half felt vaguely numb, though in a pleasant and tingly sort of way.

Laughing, he stood and gripped her shoulders, bracing her to her feet and guiding her towards the bed. "We're not done."

When she reached it, she slumped down, falling face-first. He pulled her hips up until she was bent at the knees, exposed to him, distressingly vulnerable with her bound wrists. Gently, slowly, he removed the vibrator, making her heave a deep and relieved sigh into the mattress.

"What a sight," he said quietly. "I wish I could save this- actually, you know what, I think I will."

He stood and retrieved his phone as she blinked at him sleepily. "But I- what-" Sexy photos seemed a bit risky, but her risk assessment was a little off-kilter at the moment. I'll address that later, she thought hazily.

"Relax, your face isn't in it." Apparently done, he tossed the mobile back aside. In efficient movements, he stripped off his clothes, revealing all that delicious muscle and skin as she watched. Climbing behind her, he put his hands on her hips. "Now, what do you want?"

"Please fuck me," she slurred. God, she was beyond ready.

"Where?" He traced a finger along the cleft of her ass. "So many pretty holes to choose from."

"My- my-" Damn him, _damn_ him. "Why do you always make me say it?" she whined.

She could hear his grin. "Because you hate it so much."

"Shitheel," she muttered.

There was a sharp slap to her ass, making her yelp. "Watch your attitude, woman, or I'll put the toy back in."

Oh no, no no no. "Sorry," she said quickly, "sorry, please don't."

He soothed down the smack, rubbing his thumb in small circles. "Be good, and I won't. So you were saying?"

Groaning, she pushed her face into the pillow. "Please fuck me in my- my cunt."

He yanked her head up. "Can't hear you."

"God, fine! I want your dick in my cunt, please, Jacob!"

He rewarded her with a solid fuck of a thrust, making her yelp happily as she stretched around him. God bless teenage boys and their quick refractory period. His breath was hot on her back, his fingers tightening on her waist. "Was that so hard?"

It was hard to properly meet his thrusts with her hands bound, but she tried anyway, rocking back and forth as best she could. "Please-" she moaned, desperate, hungry for him, trying to swivel her hips.

"Oh Evie," he sighed happily, tracing his fingers down her back and making her shiver. "If only they could see you now. Top of the class, teacher's pet, team captain- tied up and loving it, absolutely begging to be fucked."

She managed a grin over her shoulder. "If only they could see _you_ \- tough guy Jacob, buying flowers and chocolates like a lovesick-"

" _Enough_ ," he snarled, thrusting so roughly that she gasped and skidded forward a little on the mattress. "I don't feel like you're really getting the point of this punishment, do you?"

He pulled out of her and she frowned, turning to try and see what was happening; he shoved her head back down roughly, and she squirmed as she felt him press the vibrator back in. "Oh no- no no no, please no, I can't-" It buzzed to life and she kicked her heels frantically, socks scraping against the mattress. The break was enough that she wasn't sore any more, but it was still overwhelming, tingling spreading from her hips right down to the tips of her toes, the remnants of too many orgasms still racing through her body.

"Think about that next time," he growled, before he pushed back in _beside_ the vibrator and oh _God_ she was so tender and everything felt so _good_ and raw and oh God- oh God-

She had to bite down on the pillow to stop from screaming bloody murder as she came. Her whole body trembled at the impact, Jacob relentless as he pounded into her, pressing a hand between her shoulder blades as he fucked her into the mattress.

Words became impossible as he thrusted, over and over and over until the passage of time became meaningless, until there was nothing but the sheets under her fingers and Jacob inside of her, filling her perfectly like they were meant to fit together this way, like they were never meant to stop, no matter the consequences. All she could do was feel- distantly, she could tell that she was making a series of breathy noises, but she couldn't have said if she was trying to speak or just wordlessly trying to express the ecstasy of being fucked senseless.

His breathing gradually became ragged until he finished again with a few last, powerful thrusts, spilling into her with a grunt as she keened. As he withdrew, he reached down pulled out the vibrator as well, leaving her jelly-limbed and shaking on the bed, stretching out to press her burning hips against the cool and soft sheets.

Untying her, he rubbed the blood back into her wrists, pulling her against his chest and pressing soft kisses to her neck. "Lesson learned, I think?"

She just nestled back into him, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

"So that thing was worth every penny, right?" Jacob murmured, laughing as she made a mock-outraged noise, grinning and twisting to swat him with a pillow.


	10. Chapter 10

Jacob found himself thinking of her often.

Partly about her body, that went without saying. The long legs, the slim waist, the full breasts- all of that occupied a fairly significant part of his mental day. The surprising thing was that he also spent a lot of time just vaguely wondering how she was doing. If she'd finished the project she'd been working on so diligently the night before. If she'd won the field hockey match that she was nervous about. If she would like a funny picture that he saw on Reddit.

It wasn't that he hadn't been interested in her life before. It was just as though someone had taken the "Evie" dial in his head and turned it up to 11. It almost made him sorry that he hadn't bothered to try and go to St. Animus as well, but then he remembered the posh pricks that made up most of the student body other than her and was less sorry.

On break, he was fiddling with his mobile yet again and wondering if it was too clingy to text her for a third time in a row when someone said hello to him. He vaguely lifted his hand with a "hey", so focused on his thoughts about Evie that he didn't even look up from the screen.

When he finally put his mobile down, Ned and Agnes were staring at him with raised eyebrows. "What?"

"That was _cold_ ," Agnes said, looking vaguely impressed.

"Huh?"

Ned snorted. "Did you not even notice? Holly's been trying to get your attention for weeks. She was going full giggle and smile and you literally didn't give her the time of day."

He was starting to feel a bit defensive. "I'm not interested, that's all."

Agnes chewed thoughtfully. "Are you ever gonna actually let us meet the girl that has you so goddamn smitten? You're like a preteen girl, it's incredible. I want to give her a medal for doing a better job of making you look like an eejit than all of our years of effort combined."

"Fuck off," Jacob muttered. "And not in a million years."

* * *

With class over, she was able to pull out her mobile, smiling at two new message notifications from Jacob. She'd spent the whole lecture itching to check to see if he had gotten in touch. She'd used to have such good self-control when it came to texting in class. He had a way of absolutely obliterating that self-control, and it was almost unnerving. She just wanted to hear from him, even if it was a stupid link from Reddit. Which she always vaguely enjoyed, though she'd never admit it.

Throughout her lunch break, they texted back and forth; even though it was about nothing of real value, it made her feel flush and happy, a fullness in her chest that felt like it was glowing.

It was getting close to class time when he sent _cant wait to see u._

She grinned. _I can't wait either. I've got plans._

The reply was immediate. _What plans?_

Moving into the hallway, she walked along until she came to an empty corner. Lifting her phone, she put two fingers in her mouth, hollowed her cheeks, closed her eyes, and took a selfie to send by way of answer.

She tapped her foot in the hallway until he responded. _Jfc woman._

Giggling, she was about to move along when he sent an image. He was sitting down somewhere, but in his lap, there was the clear outline of an erection in his trousers. _This is what u do to me. Im supposed to be somewhere in ten minutes dammit._

 _I'm lucky mine doesn't show so easily_ , she responded.

His reply was prompt. _U will have to figure out how to show me._

Biting her lip, she glanced around. She still had a little time before class. There was a storage closet right down the hall- she would have a little privacy there. Quickly letting herself in, she lifted her skirt and took a picture of her hand in her knickers; sending it, she followed it with a picture of her fingers held closer to the light, where the sheen of wetness was clearly visible.

His reply was straightforward. _Fuck._

She could practically hear the word whispered in her ear, in that low tone full of promise that he saved for these situations. It gave her a delicious shiver. _Something for you to look forward to. I wish I didn't have to wait._

 _Then dont._ She should've seen that coming, she supposed. _Get urself off now._

 _I have class._

Was it possible for someone to smirk over text? _Better b quick then._

Just thinking about that smug attitude got her heart rate going. Clearly, there was something wrong with her. Or, well, clearly multiple things were wrong with her, but the list seemed to keep getting longer all the time. That didn't stop her from shuffling against a cabinet and putting her hand back down her knickers. _I wish you were here._

 _I would pin u to the wall and fuck u until the whole school could hear u scream._

It was tricky to type one-handed, but she managed. _I want it._

 _Maybe ill insist you cum twice before going back to class._

Oh God but that did things to her, forced a little moan from her throat, pushed her immediately closer-

The door handle of the closet turned.

Clamping down a panicked gasp, she yanked her hand out of her knickers and shoved her skirt down, quickly closing the chat on her mobile. She barely had a moment to blink before Mr. Green was standing in the doorway.

She tried to seem calm, but she knew how this must look, oh God, what if he'd heard her, how the room must _smell_ -

"Miss Frye," he snapped. "My office. Now."

* * *

It was worrying when she abruptly disappeared.

Jacob checked his mobile obsessively all day, but no alerts from her ever popped up on his screen. He even sent a few apologies, wondering if he had somehow overstepped. There was nothing but radio silence.

By the end of the day, he was definitely worried. This wasn't like her. When he tried to call her, it rang to voicemail, so it wasn't like her mobile was just out of batteries.

He waited in their usual spot for pick up, but as the students slowly filtered out, she was nowhere to be found. Just when he was about to start looking for her, she came down the steps, shoulders hunched and eyes red-rimmed. Panic surged in his throat and he closed the distance to her with a few long steps, pulling her into a stiff hug. "What's wrong? What happened?"

She clamped her eyes shut. "We'll talk once we're home."

In the safety of their kitchen, he made them both tea, pouring hers into her favourite cat mug. When he sat beside her, he took her hand and gripped it tightly, trying to convey a thousand words of reassurance with a squeeze. "So what happened?"

"I…" She sniffled. "I was in the storage closet and Mr. Green caught me."

His shoulders stiffened. Fuck, of all the people. "Did he see anything?"

"Not really, but it was obvious, Jacob. I got marched back to his office for a lecture about appropriate school behaviour, and I had to go back into class with him late." Her shoulders were shaking a little, so he moved his arms into a half hug, pulling her against his chest. "It was so humiliating."

"Are you in trouble?"

"I should be. He said something about this being a disciplinary committee thing, but that rather than letting it go further, he would drop it if I start staying after school to do some office work for him. Unofficial detention, basically."

"Fuck," he breathed. He didn't like the sound of that at _all_. A tendril of guilt, unfamiliar, twisted in his gut. "I'm sorry, I should never have been so pushy, this is all my fault-"

She scrubbed at her nose with the back of her hand. "Don't be silly, I made the choice. Thank God I got my phone locked before he confiscated it for the rest of the day, so at least he didn't see the messages."

Thank God indeed. "So- wait- it'll be just the two of you after school? In his office?"

"I know what you're thinking," she sighed, looking pained. "But don't worry, I'm sure he'd never try something at school. I'm pretty sure there are security cameras in the teacher's offices for exactly that sort of thing."

That made him feel better, but not much. "I still don't like it."

"Well, me neither. This is going to cut into our already limited time together." She put her face in her hands. "Oh God, what a disaster."

"Hey, we'll figure something out." He gave her arm a bracing rub. "Winter break is literally right around the corner, we'll have some time then."

There was a click at the door as Father arrived home. Jacob quickly moved his arm away, hating the loss of contact, hands feeling cold and empty.

Father was moving down the front hallway with a much quicker step than normal. "Evie, Jacob!" He barrelled into the kitchen, sounding more excited than Jacob remembered hearing him in months. "I have some wonderful news! I- oh no, darling, what's wrong?"

Evie gave him a watery smile. "Just a hard day at school."

"Oh I- I'm so sorry to hear that- is everything okay?"

"Of course. It's fine." She straightened. "What's your news?"

"Well I…" he floundered a bit, some of the wind taken out of his sails. "One of the big speakers at the European Archaeological Society has dropped out, and my name came up as a replacement. They're flying me to Edinburgh in the first week of January for the conference. It's a big honour."

"Oh Father," Evie said, standing and giving him a hug. "That's fabulous news."

Jacob had to do his best not to grin at the thought of an empty house over the holidays. Fabulous news indeed.

* * *

That night, she lay in her bed unable to fall asleep, staring at the ceiling and feeling terrible. She was just about to give up and try and read a book or something when she heard Jacob creep into her room. "Hey," she said into the dark. "I'm not really in the mood, sorry-"

"I'm not here for that," he said, sounding a bit offended. He perched on the side of the bed. "Brought you a hot water bottle and I wondered if you wanted a cuddle."

She blinked at him and felt herself well up all over again. No, damn it. She had gotten through this day without actually crying- though she'd come close- and she wasn't going to start now. "Yes, please," she said quietly.

Lifting the covers, he shuffled in next to her, pressing the hot water bottle to her stomach in a comforting gesture. Lying back, he held his arms out so she could lean against his chest. She felt so safe there. It was a world away from the prickly tension of sitting in Mr. Green's office.

"It's going to be fine," he murmured. "You'll see. It'll all work out."

She let out a wet chuckle. "I don't know how you're so confident."

She expected a joke, but instead, he propped himself up a bit so he could look at her directly and give her a soft kiss. "You're smart. I'm determined. We love each other. We'll figure it out."

Nodding, she nestled back against his shoulder, breathing in his lovely smell and taking comfort from the warmth of his body.

His fingers were idly playing with her hair. "Go to sleep," he said. "I'll stay awake and leave after, don't worry. Just… lean on me for a bit."

So, closing her eyes, she did.


End file.
